A  MAN  STORY 


LIBRARY   OF 


H.  J.  M06LE 


No 


A  MAN  STORY 


A    MAN    STORY 


BY 


E.    W.     HOWE 


AUTHOR  OF  "THE  STORY  OF  A  COUNTRY  TOWN,"  "THE  MYSTERY  OF  THE 
LOCKS,"  "A  MOONLIGHT  BOY,"  ETC. 


BOSTON 

TICKNOR    AND     COMPANY 

211    Fremont    Street 

1889 


Copyright,  iSSS 
BY   TICKNOR   AND   COMPANY 


All  rights  reserve^  I  '.  .* 


PRESS  OF 
ROCKWELL  AND  CHURCHILL 

BOSTON,    U.S.A. 


CONTENTS. 


OIIAITKK  PAGE 

I.  How  THE  STORY  CAME  TO  BE  WRITTEN   ...  7 

II.  THE  BENDS 14 

III.  MRS.  TOM 28 

IV.  THE  BOOMER 37 

V.  WAS  HE  IN  LOVE? 49 

VI.  ONE  OF  OUR  NEIGHBORS 66 

VII.  MORE  OF  THE  LOVE  STORY 81 

VIII.  JOE  TACK 93 

IX.  THE  STRANGE    STORY  OF  MR.  CANBY  AND  MR. 

OTHER 107 

X.  UNCLE  TOM  WRITES  A  LETTER 123 

XI.  NUMBER  ONE  ASSERTS  HIMSELF 133 

XII.  I  AM  SURPRISED 147 

XIII.  MRS.  BARNABY 156 

XIV.  OLD  BARNABY 171 

XV.  A  LETTER  FROM  MRS.  TOM 184 

XVI.  A  MAN'S  GRIEVANCE      .  193 


M22162 


6  CONTENTS. 

CHAPTER  PAGE 

XVII.     THE  BROOPER  WOODS 209 

XVIII.  AN  IDOL  LEAVES  THE  SANCTUARY      ....  224 

XIX.     THE  RETURN  TO  FOG  LAKE 239 

XX.     A  MESSAGE  AND  A  MYSTERY 254 

XXI.     I  GET  AN  IDEA 271 

XXII.     THE  TOWN  IN  THE  WEST .  280 

XXIII.  MR.  HICKEY 296 

XXIV.  A  MAN'S  STORY .310 

XXV.     A  BAD  NIGHT 337 

XXVI.     AN  ANTE-MORTEM  STATEMENT 348 

XXVII.     THE  BREAK  OP  DAY 35G 

XXVIII.     How  IT  CAME  ABOUT .364 

XXIX.     A  RIVAL 371 

XXX.  Two  LETTERS  375 


A  MAN   STORY. 


CHAPTER  I.  ;,  :    ->;— ,:V 

HOW   THE   STORY   CAME  TO  BE   WRITTEN. 

AT  the  time  when  all  the  incidents  were 
fresh  in  the  minds  of  those  concerned,  it  was 
generally  said  that  they  would  make  a  story. 
This  impression  was  particularly  marked  after 
the  events  immediately  following  the  closing 
chapters,  and  there  was  seldom  a  day  that  the 
matter  of  a  story  was  not  mentioned;  it  was 
even  said  that  I  should  attempt  it,  as  I  had 
regained  a  certain  amount  of  respect  among 
them  by  reason  of  the  incidents  narrated,  and 
although  they  soon  ceased  talking  about  it  en 
tirely,  I  continued  to  think  of  the  suggestion 
of  a  story,  which  had  at  first  impressed  me 
favorably,  and  finally  set  to  work,  though  with 
many  misgivings. 


8  A   MAN'  STORY. 

It  seems  easy  to  write  a  story.  After  read 
ing  a  book,  particularly  a  good  one,  the  writ 
ing  of  it  seems  to  have  been  an  easy  matter. 
I  think  I  was  induced  to  attempt  to  tell  this 
story  of  a  man  from  reading  certain  books 
which,  were  written  so  easily  that  little  work 
was  apparently  connected  with  them,  but  I 
now  feel,  after  an  actual  experience  with  the 
task,  that  no  one  will  be  encouraged  to  write 
a  book  by  what  I  have  written ;  I  am  so  cer 
tain  that  the  style  is  stiff,  and  the  characters 
awkwardly  introduced,  though  I  might  have 
done  better  had  I  not  felt  it  my  duty  to 
narrate  the  facts  almost  as  they  happened,  for 
there  is  a  wide  license  in  fiction  which  I  have 
not  been  permitted  to  employ. 

But  when  I  think  of  it,  the  writing  of  fic 
tion  is  no  doubt  difficult.  There  are  a  thousand 
expressions  that  may  be  put  in  the  mouth  of 
every  character;  the  effort  to  select  the  best 
ones  from  the  mass  of  material  offering,  is  no 
doubt  a  tiresome  work.  There  is  not  a  line 
in  any  book  —  except  a  book  like  this,  where 


HO  W  IT  CAME  TO  BE    WRITTEN.  9 

the  facts  are  ready  at  hand  —  that  might  not 
be  written  in  almost  numberless  ways,  and  the 
worry  of  the  authors,  in  trying  to  do  as  well 
as  possible,  will  distress  me  in  future  when 
ever  I  see  a  printed  page ;  I  have  worried  so 
much  over  my  own  work,  although  I  had 
only  my  memory  to  look  to.  A  character  that 
might  strike  the  popular  fancy  may  be  cur 
tailed,  in  the  author's  anxiety,  and  a  bad  one 
enlarged  upon.  Every  description  in  a  book 
might  be  written  in  a  thousand  ways;  the 
conversation  of  the  characters  might  be  length 
ened  or  shortened  to  their  improvement.  I 
imagine  that  there  is  scarcely  a  sentence,  in 
short,  that  does  not  walk  through  the  sleeping 
and  waking  hours  of  the  poor  authors,  asking 
for  aid,  and  their  distress  has  affected  me  so 
much  that  I  shall  not  attempt  it  again;  there 
are  rewards  in  business  not  to  be  had  in  book- 
writing,  and  they  do  not  cost  so  much.  I 
have  a  dread  and  guilty  feeling  when  looking 
at  the  desk  at  which  this  story  was  written 
that  I  never  experienced  on  looking  at  the 


10  A  MAN  STORY. 

counter  behind  which  I  usually  spend  my  time, 
and  I  think  this  must  have  been  a  warning. 
I  shall  so  accept  it,  at  all  events.  There  was 
a  time  when  I  had  the  greatest  hope  for  my 
self,  but  when  I  was  convinced  of  my  error, 
—  the  particulars  will  be  found  in  the  eleventh 
chapter,  I  think,  —  the  shock  of  truth  was  so 
great  that  I  doubt  that  I  shall  ever  recover 
from  it. 

Even  in  writing  this  poor  book,  I  have 
dreamed  at  night  only  of  poring  over  its 
pages,  trying  to  enlarge  here  and  cut  out 
there,  to  the  end  that  the  cruel  things  usually 
said  of  books  might  be  avoided ;  indeed,  while 
about  the  writing  I  became  so  frowsy  and 
wretched  looking,  that  many  of  my  friends  im 
agined  that  I  was  dissipating  at  night,  and 
spending  in  high  revel  the  hours  I  really  de 
voted  to  attempts  to  soften  the  hard  places. 
I  have  also  heard  it  intimated  that  I  am  of 
a  melancholy  turn,  and  that  I  spend  my  idle 
time  in  moping  about;  I  have  really  been  em 
ployed  in  trying  to  fairly  represent  the  man 


HOW  IT  CAME   TO  BE   WRITTEN.  11 

whose  story  I  have  written,  but  I  feel  certain 
that  I  shall  hear  soon  that  my  time  would 
have  been  better  employed  in  my  old  listless 
way. 

The  amateur  who  attempts  a  part  in  a  play 
—  and  who  has  not  attempted  a  part  in  the 
great  representation  of  life,  and  failed  ?  —  usu 
ally  has  the  satisfaction  of  knowing  that  the 
house  was  not  crowded,  and  that  the  exact 
particulars  of  his  disgrace  will  in  time  be  for 
gotten  in  the  failure  of  others,  since  his  actions 
and  his  words  must  be  matters  of  memory 
with  his  critics;  but  the  amateur  who  attempts 
a  book  does  not  get  off  so  well.  He  never 
lights  his  lamp  at  night  that  he  does  not  think 
of  some  one  looking  over  his  book  and  read 
ing  passages  aloud  to  laugh  at  them.  If  his 
is  a  sensitive  soul,  —  and  it  is  said  such  long 
to  put  themselves  in  books,  —  it  must  often 
occur  to  him  that  the  evidences  of  his  folly 
can  never  be  lost.  A  play-bill  may  be  de 
stroyed,  and  with  it  the  name  of  the  bad  actor, 
but  no  one  destroys  a  book;  even  the  worst 


12  A  MAN  STORY. 

books  are  kept,  and  I  have  of  late  noticed  a 
tendency  among  the  people  to  enjoy  very  bad 
stories,  because  of  their  absurdities,  in  prefer 
ence  to  reading  authors  who  are  neither  very 
good  nor  very  bad,  but  who  are  only  tiresome. 
The  last  book  that  created  a  sensation  in  our 
community  had  no  other  recommendation  than 
its  absurdity,  and  I  heard  a  bright  man  say 
not  long  ago  that  the  age  was  so  noted  for 
bad  books  that  he  had  a  mind  to  write  one 
in  mockery,  and  make  it  so  absurd  that  the 
sales  would  be  enormous.  The  author  of  the 
worst  book  ever  written  believed  in  it;  no  one 
believed  in  the  great  men  when  they  were 
boys,  and  the  boys  of  whom  a  great  deal  was 
expected  proved  a  disappointment.  Who  can 
tell? 

My  greatest  fear  is  that  it  will  be  said  that 
the  man  whose  story  it  is  was  allowed  too 
much  space,  and  that  his  talking  for  pages  at 
a  time  without  interruption,  was  a  rude  vio 
lation  of  the  proprieties.  In  order  to  prepare 
the  reader  for  this  —  for  with  my  lack  of 


HO  W  IT  CAME  TO  BE    WRITTEN.  13 

art  I  could  not  very  well  avoid  it —  I  have 
given  the  book  a  title  which  will  indicate  that 
a  man  has  a  good  deal  to  do  with  it.  Had  I 
been  free  to  select,  as  fiction-writers  are,  I 
think  I  should  have  made  A  Woman  Story, 
for  it  seems  to  me  now  that  there  is  little  that  is 
interesting  in  the  life  of  a  man;  but  the  time 
has  come  when  I  can  no  longer  delay ;  I  must 
either  burn  the  manuscript  or  print  it,  and 
since  we  hope  in  spite  of  our  fear,  with  trem 
bling  and  misgiving  I  submit  the  story. 

C.  B. 


14  A  MAN  STORY. 


CHAPTER   II. 

THE    BENDS. 

WHAT  is  the  first  thing  you  can  remember? 
I  imagine  that  every  one  has  asked  himself,  or 
herself,  the  question,  and  that  they  have  de 
cided  upon  an  incident  with  which  their  recol 
lection  began. 

The  first  thing  I  can  remember  is  of  my 
mother  crying,  late  one  afternoon,  because  of 
a  fear  she  had  just  expressed  that  my  head 
was  so  unusually  large  that  I  would  certainly 
die  of  brain  fever,  and  that  she  would  con 
sequently  never  have  the  honor  of  rearing  the 
smartest  baby  ever  born ;  but  as  many  other 
mothers  have  had  the  same  foolish  fear  of  sons 
who  grew  up  into  dull  manhood,  my  recollec 
tion  need  go  no  farther  back  than  is  neces 
sary  for  the  purpose  of  this  story, — to  a  certain 
date  when  I  was  twelve  years  old,  and  when 


THE  BENDS.  15 

I  began  to  realize  that  our  family  was  afflicted 
with  the  Bends. 

My  father,  who  was  a  boomer,  with  town-lots 
and  bonds  for  sale,  kept  a  store  at  Fog  Lake, 
and  we  lived  in  rooms  over  his  place  of  busi 
ness,  in  connection  with  my  two  grandfathers 
and  my  Aunt  Florence.  The  boomer  was  away 
from  home  on  the  afternoon  of  the  day  when 
I  became  twelve  years  old,  having  gone  to  a 
neighboring  town  to  secure  a  bucket  factory, 
which  he  had  heard  was  contemplated,  and 
when  my  mother  came  into  the  room  where 
I  sat,  and  cried  out  in  a  despairing  tone, 
"  The  Bends ! "  I  thought  she  referred  to  a 
band  of  robbers  who  were  sacking  the  town, 
or  something  of  that  kind;  so  I  went  down 
into  the  store  to  see  what  it  all  meant. 

I  found  the  young  man  who  acted  as  the 
Boomer's  clerk  in  a  good  deal  of  excitement, 
because  of  the  boisterous  conduct  of  my  pa 
ternal  grandfather,  who  had  locked  himself  in 
his  room  in  the  top  story  of  the  house,  and 
was  carrying  on  in  such  a  manner  that  a 


16  A   MAN  STORY. 

crowd  of  people  had  collected  in  front  of  the 
building.  He  had  taken  liquor  up  there,  and 
gone  on  a  bender;  ancl  when  my  mother  came 
into  the  store  wringing  her  hands,  and  saying 
that  her  family  was  disgraced  with  "  the 
Bends,"  and  that  her  boy  could  never  take 
the  place  in  the  world  his  smartness  war 
ranted,  because  of  this  calamity,  I  imagined 
there  had  been  so  many  benders  within  her 
recollection  that  she  referred  to  them  in  a  gen 
eral  way  as  "The  Bends,"  which  I  afterwards 
found  to  be  the  case. 

My  mother's  father,  as  handsome  an  old 
gentleman  as  one  could  wish  to  see,  also  lived 
at  our  house,  but  he  did  not  like  my  other 
grandfather,  and  was  therefore  not  disturbed 
because  of  his  actions.  These  two  hated  each 
other,  and  I  heard  the  clerk  say  to  a  man 
who  came  in  to  offer  his  assistance  in  the 
family's  distress  that  there  would  have  been 
no  benders  had  there  been  no  quarrel  between 
the  old  gentlemen.  When  I  was  a  very  little 
boy,  I  had  somehow  formed  the  habit  of  call- 


THE  BENDS.  17 

ing  them  Number  One  and  Number  Two, 
which  had  been  followed  by  all  the  others, 
and  it  appeared  that  when  Number  Two  could 
no  longer  stand  the  silent  impudence  of  Num 
ber  One,  he  went  on  a  bender  to  relieve 
himself. 

Number  Two  was  as  rich  as  Number  One, 
for  both  of  them  were  as  poor  as  they  could 
be,  but  he  did  not  look  so  well  or  dress  so 
well.  When  he  had  a  new  suit  of  clothes  out 
of  the  store,  he  soon  had  it  looking  wretch 
edly,  and  I  suppose  this  was  one  reason  why 
he  usually  attended  to  the  stable,  and  did 
such  other  work,  while  Number  One  did  not 
do  anything  to  speak  of,  except  to  sit  in  the 
best  room  and  read  books. 

I  had  heard  it  said  that  he  could  cure  can 
cers,  and  that  he  knew  more  than  many  doc 
tors  ;  but  there  were  no  cancers  in  that  country, 
so  we  had  no  other  authority  for  his  great 
ness  than  the  word  of  his  daughter,  my 
mother,  who  admired  him  immensely,  and  never 
tired  of  relating  what  a  distinguished  man  he 


18  A   MAN  STORY. 

had  been  in  his  prime;  but  Number  Two 
doubted  all  this,  in  which  I  think  he  was  aided 
and  abetted  by  his  son,  the  Boomer. 

I  did  not  like  Number  One  very  well  my 
self,  he  was  so  chilly  and  respectable;  and  the 
first  shock  of  my  life  was  when  I  remembered 
that  the  one  who  regarded  me  with  the  great 
est  admiration,  my  mother,  was  so  badly 
mistaken  about  her  father.  He  was  also 
responsible  for  the  story,  which  I  heard  so 
often  that  I  disliked  it,  that  I  cried  so  much 
as  a  baby  that  he  had  made  up  his  mind  to 
ask  me,  in  case  I  ever  grew  up,  what  I  was 
crying  about. 

Number  One  also  had  his  bed  in  the  best 
room,  which  he  folded  out  of  the  way  during 
the  day,  and  he  was  known  to  look  displeased 
when  there  was  company  which  interfered  with 
his  genteel  solitude  to  an  extent  that  he  did 
not  like.  • 

It  was  understood  that  my  father  could  man 
age  the  Bends,  but  as  he  was  away,  certain 
men  in  the  town  who  were  supposed  to  have 


THE  BENDS.  19 

influence  with  him  were  sent  to  Number  Two's 
door;  but  he  paid  no  attention  to  them,  and 
went  on  with  his  carouse.  I  had  perhaps 
been  familiar  with  his  habits  of  dissipation 
before,  but  it  seems  to  me  now  that  they  had 
escaped  me  up  to  this  time,  for  the  bender 
seemed  so  curious  to  me  that  when  none  of 
them  could  do  anything  with  Number  Two, 
and  had  given  him  up  in  despair,  I  finally 
went  up  the  little  stairway  leading  to  his  door, 
and  listened. 

I  could  make  out  in  a  confused  sort  of  way 
that  Number  Two  was  having  a  reunion,  and 
although  he  was  certainly  alone,  he  pretended 
to  be  surrounded  by  his  old  army  comrades, 
with  whom  he  drank  frequently,  for  I  could 
hear  the  glasses  rattling,  and  Number  Two  in 
sisting  that  they  fill  them  up  again  in  memory 
of  old  times. 

Between  his  drinks  he  would  relate  anec 
dotes,  usually  commencing  by  saying,  "Your 
story,  comrade,  reminds  me  of  an  incident  in 
my  own  experience ; "  and  when  I  looked 


20  A  MAN  STORY. 

through  the  keyhole,  I  saw  that  he  had  his 
old  uniform  on,  which  included  a  little  cap, 
with  a  brass  letter  and  number  in  front.  I 
could  also  see  that  he  was  seated  at  his  wash- 
stand,  in  the  centre  of  which  stood  a  bottle 
surrounded  by  several  tumblers  and  mugs,  and 
against  which  leaned  a  musket.  Number  Two 
had  been  a  private,  and  was  honest  enough  to 
admit  it;  but  there  was  a  certain  Captain 
Waterbury  who  attended  the  reunions,  and  I 
have  heard  him  refer  to  the  captain  quite 
familiarly,  usually  in  connection  with  urging 
him  to  take  one  more. 

He  frequently  referred  to  a  certain  Devil 
who  had  not  been  in  the  war  at  all,  and  whom 
it  was  desirable  to  exterminate,  and  I  felt 
certain  that  the  Devil  he  referred  to  was  Num 
ber  One,  his  enemy.  I  could  hear  him  telling 
his  comrades,  who  were  represented  by  the 
mugs  and  glasses,  that  while  it  was  certain 
that  the  Devil  had  not  carried  arms  on  the 
right  side,  it  WPS  not  certain  that  he  had  net 
consorted  in  a  cowardly  way  with  the  enemy; 


THE  BENDS.  21 

indeed,  Number  Two  went  so  far  as  to  propose 
a  set  of  resolutions  for  adoption,  denouncing 
all  Rebels  and  Copperheads,  and  calling  for  their 
blood;  but  before  the  final  vote  I  became  so 
frightened  that  I  went  downstairs  with  a  view 
of  warning  Number  One  of  his  danger,  though 
I  thought  less  of  him  than  I  did  of  Number 
Two.  But  when  I  went  into  the  room  where 
he  was,  Number  One  seemed  so  conscious  of 
his  own  safety  that  I  said  nothing  at  all,  and 
felt  rather  ashamed  that  I  should  have  imag 
ined  that  so  distinguished  a  man  was  in  danger. 
Although  my  mother  was  very  much  agitated 
over  the  events  of  the  evening,  and  was  saying 
between  her  sobs  that  our  family  could  never 
amount  to  anything  so  long  as  it  was  cursed 
with  "  The  Bends,"  and  that  while  she  had 
the  smartest  son  in  the  world,  he  could  not  do 
well  when  the  people  in  the  street  could  see 
that  he  came  from  a  family  afflicted  as  ours 
was,  her  father  was  as  dignified  as  ever,  and 
whatever  his  thoughts  might  have  been,  he 
said  nothing. 


22  A  MAN  STORY. 

Though  I  did  not  like  him,  I  could  not  help 
admitting  that  he  was  distinguished-looking,  for 
his  heavy  hair  and  whiskers,  which  were  of  a 
respectable  iron-gray,  made  him  look  like  the 
great  men  I  had  seen  pictures  of,  and  there 
was  a"  general  dignity  about  him  which  I  often 
regretted  that  Number  Two  did  not  possess. 
Number  Two  was  very  bald,  and  somewhat 
slouchy  in  his  gait  and  manner,  and  there  was 
something  sneaking  in  his  style,  which  came, 
I  think,  from  his  chewing  great  quantities  of 
plug  tobacco,  in  spite  of  the  fact  that  my 
mother  and  her  father,  eminently  respectable 
people,  did  not  approve  of  the  habit.  Number 
Two  pretended  that  it  was  neither  disgraceful 
nor  criminal  to  chew  plug  tobacco,  but,  in 
spite  of  it,  I  noticed  that  he  did  his  chewing 
down  at  the  stable,  and  that  when  he  came 
into  the  house  he  carefully  wiped  his  mouth. 

When  I  went  upstairs  again,  which  I  did 
on  being  convinced  that  Number  One  was  in 
no  danger,  I  found  that  the  excitement  was 
increasing.  There  was  loud  talk  of  all  those 


THE  BENDS.  23 

present  loading  their  muskets,  and  making  one 
more  charge  on  the  Rebels,  and  Copperheads, 
and  Devils,  but  just  at  the  moment  when  mat 
ters  seemed  serious,  and  Number  Two  was 
declaring  that  he  would  lead  the  way,  and 
point  out  the  Rebel,  the  Copperhead,  and  the 
Devil,  there  was  a  strong  step  on  the  stair, 
and  I  turned  and  saw  my  Uncle  Tom  ascend 
ing  ;  Uncle  Tom,  the  husband  of  my  Aunt 
Florence,  who  travelled  from  the  City,  a  long 
way  off,  and  only  came  home  at  long  intervals ; 
but  he  had  arrived  unexpectedly,  it  seemed, 
and  was  coming  up  to  join  in  the  reunion,  hav 
ing  been  a  soldier  himself.  My  uncle  had  great 
influence  with  Number  Two,  and,  after  nodding 
pleasantly  to  me,  he  rapped  loudly  on  the  door. 

"  Comrade,"  he  said,  addressing  my  grand 
father  upon  the  inside,  "I  am  a  little  late, 
but  I  hope  you  will  be  glad  to  see  me." 

There  was  some  talk  upon  the  inside,  as 
though  the  veterans  were  impatient  because  of 
being  disturbed,  even  by  a  favorite,  and  finally 
my  grandfather  hoarsely  inquired:  — 


24  A  MAN  STORY. 

"Who   goes   there?" 

"  Torn  Saulsbury,  of  the  Sixty-fourth  Regi 
ment;  a  friend." 

I  do  not  think  Number  Two  wanted  to  be 
interrupted,  and  would  have  preferred  not  .to 
have  admitted  any  one,  but  there  was  a  hearty 
goodness  about  my  uncle  that  no  one  could 
resist,  and  the  door  was  opened  after  some 
hesitation,  Number  Two  appearing  behind  it, 
looking  somewhat  sheepish  and  red-eyed  from 
the  effects  of  his  dissipation. 

As  Uncle  Tom  stepped  into  the  room,  at 
the  same  time  heartily  greeting  Number  Two 
as  his  comrade  in  war  and  his  friend  in  peace, 
he  took  me  with  him,  and  I  believe  he  did 
this  not  so  much  to  accommodate  me  as  to 
increase  his  influence  over  my  grandfather, 
who,  my  uncle  seemed  to  argue,  would  be 
more  tractable  in  the  presence  of  a  boy  than 
when  only  grown  persons  were  present;  so  I 
was  allowed  to  remain,  although  the  door  was 
locked  behind  us. 

The   room   into   which   we   went   was    a   half- 


THE  BENDS.  25 

story  one  next  to  the  roof  at  the  front  of  the 
building,  and  was  bare  of  furniture  save  a 
rough  bed  covered  with  gray  blankets,  a  wash- 
stand,  and  two  or  three  knapsacks.  Instead 
of  keeping  his  things  in  a  trunk,  Number  Two 
kept  them  in  knapsacks,  which  he  carefully 
unpacked  and  repacked  whenever  he  wanted 
anything,  and  as  he  brought  up  his  water  in 
canteens,  he  could  have  marched  at  a  moment's 
notice  had  Number  One  made  a  retreat  nec 
essary.  I  was  not  often  in  the  room,  and 
while  I  looked  around  curiously  at  the  swords 
and  belts  and  army  pictures  on  the  wall,  I 
remarked  that  Uncle  Tom  had  entered  heartily 
into  the  reunion,  and  soon  had  Number  Two 
in  the  best  of  humor.  He  drank  from  all  of 
the  glasses,  I  remember,  as  though  he  wanted 
to  exhaust  the  supply  of  liquor,  and  talked 
soldier  talk  with  great  ease  and  enjoyment, 
frequently  saying  that  he  was  sorry  he  had 
arrived  so  near  the  close  of  the  reunion,  as  he 
would  have  enjoyed  all  of  the  exercises.  As  a 
matter  of  fact,  the  reunion  had  only  com- 


26  A   MAN  STORY. 

menced  late  that  afternoon,  and  as  a  rule 
they  lasted  two  or  three  days,  but  I  believed 
Uncle  Tom  was  saying  this  as  a  preliminary 
to  breaking  it  up  presently.  Number  Two  was 
disposed  to  be  noisy  and  drink  heavily,  but 
Uncle  Tom  reminded  him  with  great  delicacy 
that  none  of  the  old  boys  could  "stay"  as 
they  used  to,  and  that  nothing  was  thought 
of  it  if  the  old  soldiers  were  not  as  tough  as 
they  were  during  the  war,  for  time  was  stif 
fening  their  frames,  and  they  must  take  care 
of  themselves.  It  thus  came  about  naturally 
enough  that  after  remaining  in  the  room  an 
hour  or  so,  Uncle  Tom  commenced  to  talk 
about  breaking  up,  and  to  sing  songs  that  both 
of  them  remembered  in  connection  with  their 
regiments  separating  after  the  war;  and  I  was 
not  surprised  when  my  uncle  finally  said  good 
night  to  Number  Two,  blew  out  the  light,  and 
retired,  taking  me  with  him.  It  seemed  a 
rather  bold  proceeding  even  for  a  bold  man 
like  my  uncle,  but  I  did  not  believe  the  lamp 
would  be  lighted  again  that  night. 


THE  BENDS.  27 

•          •••••••• 

At  three  o'clock  the  next  morning  we  heard 
the  town  omnibus  rattle  up  to  our  door,  a 
train  having  arrived  about  that  time,  and  after 
a  great  noise  on  the  part  of  the  driver  in 
backing  the  vehicle  up  to  the  steps,  Number 
Two  got  out,  and  softly  ascended  to  his  room, 
as  though  he  had  been  away  and  had  just  re 
turned.  This  was  his  custom  on  recovering 
from  the  Bends,  and  we  knew  that  the  re 
union  was  over. 


28  A  MAN  STORY. 


CHAPTER     III. 

MKS.  TOM. 

WHEN  we  went  downstairs  my  uncle  was 
greeted  at  his  own  door  by  Mrs.  Tom,  who 
had  been  waiting  for  him,  and  he  said  that  he 
had  drank  so  much  of  the  liquor  to  keep  it 
from  Number  Two,  that  he  felt  a  little  like 
making  a  night  of  it ;  but  he  did  not,  further 
than  to  remain  up  rather  late. 

Uncle  Tom  was  very  fond  of  his  wife,  but 
he  was  always  saying  that  he  would  finally 
tire  of  her,  and  be  ashamed  of  himself  for  it, 
although  no  one  ever  believed  that  he  meant 
it.  No  one  could  tire  of  Mrs.  Tom  ;  certainly 
no  one  ever  had  tired  of  her,  and  she  had  been 
at  our  house  most  of  her  life. 

"  When  I  am  on  the  road,"  he  said,  after 
announcing  to  his  wife  that  her  big  foolish 
lover  had  returned,  and  that  she  should  make 


MRS.    TOM.  29 

the  most  of  the  silly  fellow,  "  I  long  for  you 
as  much  as  a  boy  longs  for  recess,  for  I  am 
not  a  wise  man,  and  cannot  console  my  loneli 
ness  by  thinking  of  the  blessed  times  when  I 
see  you.  I  don't  get  any  better,  either.  I  sup 
pose  the  only  way  out  of  it  is  to  quit  the  road, 
and  come  home  and  tire  of  you." 

Mrs.  Tom  was  so  busy  rejoicing  because  of 
her  merry  husband's  arrival  that  she  paid  little 
attention  to  this  statement,  which  seemed  rather 
alarming  to  me,  but  perhaps  she  had  heard  it 
before,  and  knew  that  he  was  not  serious. 

"  But  now  that  I  am  with  you,"  he  contin 
ued,  "  I  haven't  a  care  in  the  world.  I  was 
thinking  last  week  that  there  was  no  use  liv 
ing,  and  keeping  up  the  struggle,  but  I  have 
nothing  to  wish  for,  now  that  I  am  at  home. 
I  believe  you  are  better-looking  than  when  I 
saw  you  last.  I  don't  imagine  that  you  are 
known  in  this  country  as  a  beauty,  but  I'm  in 
love,  and  I  think  you  are  the  prettiest  woman 
I  ever  saw." 

I   had   never   thought   Mrs.    Tom   particularly 


30  A  MAN  STORY. 

good-looking,  but  now  that  the  subject  was 
brought  to  my  mind,  I  thought  she  certainly 
looked  better  than  when  I  had  last  looked  at 
her  critically;  she  had  a  way  of  growing  in 
your  favor  the  longer  you  knew  her,  and  as  I 
had  known  her  a  long  time,  I  esteemed  her 
very  highly. 

"When  I  drove  up  just  now  I  thought  this 
old  house  the  handsomest  I  ever  saw,  because 
you  were  under  its  roof.  I  am  becoming  more 
ridiculously  in  love  with  Lady  Pleaseme  every 
day,  and  sometimes  I  laugh  at  iny  own  folly. 
But  you  won't  think  of  all  this  nonsense,  and 
remind  me  of  it  after  I  have  tired  of  you,  will 
you  ?  That's  the  way  old  Barnaby's  wife  does." 

Uncle  Tom  travelled  for  Barnaby  &  Co., 
from  the  City,  and  the  head  of  the  house  did 
not  get  along  pleasantly  with  his  wife ;  we 
had  heard  so  much  of  old  Barnaby  and  his 
meanness  with  his  wife  that  we  felt  quite  well 
acquainted  with  him. 

Mrs.  Tom  did  not  reply  to  his  question  or 
intimate  how  she  would  act  after  he  had  tired 


MRS.    TOM.  31 

of  her,  but  after  returning  from  an  adjoining 
room  with  his  slippers,  she  patted  his  strong 
frame  with  girlish  glee,  and  said:  — 

"You  won't,  will  you?" 

Uncle  Tom  gravely  shook  his  head,  and  I 
believed  this  to  be  a  declaration  that  he  would 
never  forget  her. 

"  I  say  I  won't,"  he  said,  as  he  leisurely  made 
preparations  to  put  on  the  slippers,  "  and  I 
mean  it,  now;  but  you  know  how  the  men  are. 
Old  Barnaby  thought  he  wouldn't,  but  he  did." 

Mrs.  Tom  had  found  his  dressing-gown  by 
this  time,  and  gave  it  to  him,  saying  at  the 
same  time,  "  You  will,  won't  you  ?  " 

This  time  Uncle  Tom  nodded  his  head  and 
laughed,  and  I  knew  he  was  declaring  that 
he  would  always  love  her.  These  were  favorite 
questions  with  Mrs.  Tom,  and  when  they  were 
together  Uncle  Tom  had  his  head  going  a  good 
deal,  either  shaking  it  to  declare  that  he 
would  never  forget  his  wife,  or  nodding  it  as 
a  means  of  indicating  that  he  would  always 
love  her.  Occasionally  he  shook  his  head 


32  A   MAN  STORY. 

when  he  intended  to  nod  it,  he  kept  his  head 
nodding  so  much  in  answer  to  Mrs.  Tom's 
questions,  and  at  these  times  there  was  appar 
ently  great  excitement,  but  they  thoroughly 
understood  each  other,  and  never  had  any  real 
trouble. 

"There  never  was  a  man  as  certain  of  any 
thing  as  I  am  that  I  will  always  love  you," 
he  said,  opening  his  travelling-bag  to  look 
for  something,  which  turned  out  to  be  a 
present  for  Mrs.  Tom ;  "  but  you  know  old 
Barnaby  thought  he  would  always  love  his 
wife,  and  he  hates  her  now.  I  wonder  if  he 
is  not  awfully  ashamed  when  he  thinks  how 
he  has  changed;  I  know  I'll  be.  What  a 
silly  woman  you  are  to  have  confidence  in 
me  -,  you  don't  know  what  a  fickle,  bad  lot 
the  men  are.  It  may  be  the  making  of  your 
husband,  though,  this  faith  you  have  in  him. 
I  know  a  man  on  the  road  who  says  his 
wife  believes  in  him,  and  he  has  a  foolish 
ambition  to  deserve  her  confidence.  He  goes 
to  church  on  Sunday  when  away  from  home, 


MRS.    TOM.  33 

because  he  thinks  it  will  please  his  wife, 
although  he  can  quote  from  all  the  in 
fidel  books.  He  does  whatever  his  wife  be 
lieves  he  will  do,  and  says  it  is  a  pleasure 
to  feel  that  he  is  worthy  of  her  great  trust 
in  him." 

I  thought  it  possible  that  Uncle  Tom  re 
ferred  to  himself;  I  knew  that  he  had  a  good 
deal  of  faith  in  religion,  because  his  wife 
wanted  him  to,  Once  when  he  was  at  home, 
the  pastor  in  charge  of  the  Fog  Lake  church 
had  dinner  at  our  house,  and  when  it  occurred 
to  Uncle  Tom  that  perhaps  his  wife  would 
be  humiliated  to  have  the  good  man  see  that 
her  husband  was  not  religious,  he  startled 
them  all  by  asking  a  very  good  blessing.  I 
believe  that  had  Mrs.  Tom  been  a  Spiritualist, 
her  husband  would  have  secretly  made  raps, 
and  listened  very  gravely ;  anything  his  wife 
believed  in  was  good  enough  for  him. 

Mrs.  Tom  had  examined  the  present  by  this 
time,  and  while  it  pleased  her  she  said  she 
feared  he  could  not  afford  such  extravagance, 


34  A   MAN  STORY. 

for  his  coming  home  was  all  the  present  she 
wanted;  besides,  he  was  saving  his  money  to 
go  into  business  for  himself,  and  needed  it 
all.  Uncle  Tom  was  always  bringing  home 
money,  his  savings  from  his  salary,  which  he 
gave  his  wife  to  "  keep,"  as  he  feared  he 
would  waste  it;  he  had  a  lot  this  time,  which 
he  produced  to  be  put  away  with  the  other. 

"  I  am  glad  to  inform  you,"  he  said,  "  that 
during  this  trip  I  have  recovered  from  one 
of  my  follies;  it  was  a  great  struggle,  but  I 
conquered  it.  I  suppose  I  am  about  the 
stoutest  man  in  Fog  Lake,  but  there  was  a 
time  when  your  worrying  over  my  health 
pleased  me.  Had  I  a  headache,  you  asked;  I 
investigated,  and  so  reluctantly  answered  No 
that  you  thought  I  was  really  suffering  greatly, 
and  in  my  goodness  was  keeping  it  from  you. 
I  am  so  much  in  love  with  you  that  I  was 
pleased  because  of  your  worry ;  no  one  else 
worries  about  me,  and  I  gave  myself  up  to 
it  —  I  am  ashamed  of  it,  but  I  did.  Well, 
during  this  last  trip  it  occurred  to  me,  and 


MRS.    TOM,  35 

I  thought  it  all  over  —  I  can  never  think 
sensibly  of  anything  when  I  am  with  you  — 
and  I  realized  how  selfish  I  was,  for  you  are 
not  very  strong  yourself.  A  fragile  woman 
like  you  worrying  over  the  health  of  a  stout 
fellow  like  me !  I  was  as  ashamed  of  that  as 
I  will  be  when  I  tire  of  you.  So  we'll  have 
no  more  worry  over  my  health;  I  have  re 
covered  from  that  folly,  though  I  am  as  bad 
as  ever  in  all  the  others.  And  I  intend  to 
bring  you  presents;  do  you  hear?  I  intend 
to  bring  you  presents." 

He  said  this  with  mock  fierceness,  which 
caused  Mrs.  Tom  and  me  to  laugh. 

"But  I'll  tell  you  what  you  may  do,"  he 
continued;  "you  may  regard  me  as  a  great 
man  kept  down  by  envy.  I'm  not  kept  down 
by  anything,  except  by  my  own  worthlessness ; 
but  you  may  think  I  am,  and  I'll  enjoy  it. 
Old  Barnaby's  wife  thought  he  was  a  great 
man,  and  that  he  would  in  time  startle  the 
world ;  but  while  he  enjoyed  it  once,  he  must 
feel  ashamed  when  he  realizes  that  he  is  now 


36  A   MAN  STORT. 

keeping   a   store.     While   I   am   in   love  I   want 
to   enjoy   all   there   is   in   it." 

I  left  him  soon  after,  although  I  always 
disliked  to  go  to  bed  when  he  was  at  home, 
and  long  after  I  was  in  my  room  I  could 
hear  him  gayly  talking  to  his  wife,  and  I 
had  no  doubt  he  frequently  nodded  his  head, 
and  as  frequently  shook  it,  to  declare  that  he 
would  always  love  his  wife,  and  that  he 
would  never  forget  her. 


THE    BOOMER.  37 


CHAPTER    IV. 

THE    BOOMER. 

WHEN  Uncle  Tom  came  home  after  one  of 
his  long  trips,  he  had  the  habit  of  sleeping 
late,  and  as  everything  around  the  house 
was  regulated  to  suit  his  convenience,  we 
did  not  breakfast  the  following  morning  until 
nine  o'clock.  When  Number  Two  appeared, 
I  noticed  that  he  came  in  from  the  stable, 
where  he  had  been  at  work,  although  his 
enemy  had  been  sitting  in  his  room  for  two 
hours,  looking  over  a  number  of  newspapers. 

I  was  glad  to  notice,  also,  that  Uncle  Tom 
greeted  Number  Two  as  though  they  had  not 
met  before  within  a  month,  when  my  uncle 
was  last  at  home.  I  thought  it  was  very 
kind  in  him ;  and  my  father,  who  had  also 
returned  during  the  night,  looked  admiringly 
at  my  uncle,  as  though  he  thought  more 


38  A   MAN  STORY. 

than    ever   of    him,   because   of    his   thoughtful- 
ness,   as   I   did. 

We  all  admired  Uncle  Tom,  including  Num 
ber  One,  who  conversed  with  him  in  beauti 
ful  language  during  the  progress  of  breakfast; 
but  I  thought  he  was  impatient  when  Uncle 
Tom  turned  to  Number  Two,  and  spoke  of 
various  things  in  which  he  was  interested. 
Being  naturally  a  modest  man,  and  still  suf 
fering  from  the  effects  of  his  carouse  the 
night  before,  grandfather  said  little  in  reply; 
but  once  he  broke  out  in  a  place  where  the 
remark  was  not  at  all  appropriate,  and  said 
that  people  should  be  charitable  with  the 
faults  of  others,  as  every  one  kept  his  skele 
ton,  which  I  thought  was  a  delicate  reference 
to  "  The  Bends,"  and  perhaps  an  intimation 
that  he  knew  something  on  Number  One. 

Of  course  Mrs.  Tom,  who  had  been  a  poor 
relation  in  the  family  before  her  marriage, 
admired  Mr.  Saulsbury  more  than  any  of  us, 
and  she  had  reason  to,  for  there  never  was 
a  more  devoted  husband.  My  uncle  was 


THE   BOOMER.  39 

greatly  admired  in  the  town,  but  he  did  not 
seem  to  care  particularly  for  any  one  except 
his  wife,  arid  as  Mrs.  Tom  had  been  some 
what  neglected  before  her  marriage,  she  keenly 
appreciated  the  distinction  of  being  made  much 
of  by  her  distinguished  husband. 

Mrs.  Tom  came  to  our  house  before  I  can 
remember,  in  company  with  a  brother  who 
was  always  looking  for  something  to  do,  and 
her  devotion  to  him  was  one  of  the  traditions 
of  the  family.  Being  a  sleepy,  worthless  fellow, 
the  brother  had  no  friends,  and  finally  disap 
peared,  after  his  sister  had  spent  years  of  her 
life  in  getting  him  up  in  the  morning  to  go 
away  to  the  work  which  she  always  found  for 
him,  and  which  he  neglected  in  spite  of  her. 
Her  mother,  who  was  the  Boomer's  sister,  had 
married  a  man  who  must  have  been  much 
like  his  son,  and  I  imagined  that  the  mother 
worried  about  the  father's  shiftlessness  much 
as  the  daughter  worried  about  the  son's,  for 
while  I  heard  many  kind  -words  for  Mrs. 
Tom's  mother,  I  heard  little  to  the  credit  of 


40  A   MAN  STORY. 

her  father,  though  both  were  entitled  to  the 
charity  which  is  usually  given  to  people  that 
are  dead. 

Mrs.  Tom  was  so  delighted  to  have  her 
husband  at  home  that  it  was  a  pleasant  sight 
to  look  at  her  as  she  tried  to  think  of  every 
thing  that  would  please  him,  and  while  we 
were  all  fond  of  him,  none  of  us  went  to  the 
kitchen  as  often  as  she  did  to  see  that  his 
breakfast  was  satisfactory.  Uncle  Tom  appeared 
to  enjoy  this  as  much  as  she  did,  for  al 
though  he  did  not  like  to  make  trouble,  lie 
knew  that  she  enjoyed  it,  and  said  that  after 
a  month  of  looking  after  his  customers,  it  was 
mighty  good  to  have  somebody  look  after  him ; 
so  he  gave  himself  up  to  enjoyment,  and 
snapped  his  fingers  at  old  Barnaby. 

Old  Barnaby  was  his  employer,  and  a  hard 
employer  he  was,  too,  for  he  kept  Uncle  Tom 
employed  to  such  an  extent  that  he  could  not 
come  home  more  than  once  in  four  or  five 
weeks.  Sometimes  he  was  away  six  and  seven 
weeks,  much  as  he  had  to  call  him  home,  for 


THE   BOOMER.  41 

his  wife  was  the  dearest  woman  in  the  world, 
and  very  fond  of  him,  and  there  was  always 
great  rejoicing  in  our  family  when  Uncle  Tom 
sat  his  two  handbags  down  on  the  parlor  floor, 
and  invited  us  all  to  come  in  and  congratu 
late  him  on  his  good  fortune  in  getting  home 
after  a  hard  trip. 

Uncle  Tom  was  also  popular  in  the  town, 
and  his  coming  home  was  always  an  event, 
for  while  Fog  Lake  was  visited  by  salesmen 
from  a  town  within  sixty  or  seventy  miles,  my 
uncle  was  the  only  travelling  man  who  came 
there  from  the  City,  where  few  of  us  had  ever 
been,  and  his  affairs  were  so  important  that  he 
did  not  offer  to  trade  with  the  Fog  Lake 
merchants.  The  Boomer  occasionally  made  ref 
erence  to  his  facilities  for  procuring  goods  at 
first  hands,  by  reason  of  family  connections, 
but  I  never  knew  of  his  buying  anything  of 
the  house  represented  by  Uncle  Tom ;  I  think 
this  was  another  fiction  of  the  Boom  he  was 
always  talking  about. 

My   father   was   busy   looking   over   the  news- 


42  A   MAN  STORY. 

papers,  occasionally  making  notes  of  what  he 
read,  so  that  he  made  little  progress  with  his 
breakfast.  Whenever  he  found  an  account  of 
a  fire  in  a  newspaper,  he  at  once  wrote  and 
invited  the  man  to  rebuild  in  Fog  Lake,  at 
the  same  time  offering  a  lot  for  the  purpose, 
and  as  many  merchants  and  manufacturers  thus 
written  to  had  politely  replied  acknowledging 
his  kindness,  and  saying  they  would  "  think  of 
it,"  the  Boomer  believed  he  was  sowing  seed 
in  very  good  ground,  and  worked  early  and 
late.  Indeed,  he  thought  his  plan  of  watching 
the  newspapers  for  accounts  of  fires  was  a 
particularly  good  one,  and  we  were  requested  to 
keep  it  very  quiet,  as  my  father  feared  that 
the  Boomers  in  other  towns  would  adopt  the 
same  course.  He  was  always  finding  startling 
news  in  the  papers,  and  we  were  not  sur 
prised  when  he  read  the  following  aloud,  at 
the  same  time  showing  the  greatest  excitement : — 
"It  is  said  that  the  Sunset  route  will  build 
a  thousand  miles  of  new  road  during  the 
present  year." 


THE   BOOMER.  43 

Although  he  was  not  more  than  half  through 
with  his  breakfast,  and  had  only  returned  from 
a  booming  expedition  a  few  hours  before,  he 
got  up  from  the  table  at  once,  made  a  hur 
ried  pass  at  my  mother's  lips,  and  went  out, 
and  within  ten  minutes  was  on  his  way  to 
the  next  county  to  talk  to  the  people  about 
the  feasibility  of  inducing  the  Sunset  route  to 
build  that  way,  although  I  heard  Uncle  Tom 
say  that  there  was  no  more  possibility  of  his 
securing  it  than  there  was  hope  of  securing 
the  oyster  packing-house  my  father  had  been 
talking  of  some  weeks  before.  Uncle  Tom  did 
not  have  much  faith  in  the  Boomer's  scheme 
to  transplant  codfish  in  the  lake  near  the  town, 
either,  and  was  somewhat  sceptical  concerning 
a  great  many  things  which  were  promptly 
accepted  where  we  lived. 

The  Boomer  was  naturally  a  good  deal  in 
terested  in  the  improvement  of  Fog  Lake,  for 
he  owned  nearly  all  the  farms  adjoining  it, 
and  most  of  the  lots  in  the  town,  and  it  was 
plain  to  be  seen  that  when  certain  of  his  plans 


44  A   MAN  STORY. 

were  perfected,  he  would  become  a  very  rich 
man  by  the  advance  in  his  property.  Up  to 
that  time  he  had  not  realized  much  from  the 
boom;  indeed,  I  had  only  heard  of  his  mak 
ing  one  cash  transaction,  but  he  had  the 
greatest  hope.  The  one  transaction  in  which 
he  received  money  was  with  a  certain  Mr. 
Footit,  who  had  been  induced  to  pay  cash  for 
a  lot  of  the  Boomer's  bonds;  but  as  Mrs. 
Footit  was  constantly  demanding  the  return  of 
the  money,  in  a  very  harsh  and  loud  voice, 
adding,  at  the  same  time,  that  she  did  not 
propose  to  be  robbed,  he  found  little  comfort 
even  in  that. 

While  I  was  standing  at  the  window  with 
Uncle  Tom,  thinking  of  Footit,  I  saw  his  son 
Bud,  a  freckle-faced  boy  of  about  my  own 
age,  coming  along  the  street.  He  was  trying 
to  coax  a  stray  ^log  to  follow  him,  but,  as 
the  dog  steadily  refused  to  become  a  member 
of  his  family,  Bud  finally  kicked  the  animal 
viciously,  and  came  on  into  the  house  in  an 
swer  to  my  hail,  for  I  wanted  to  see  him. 


THE   BOOMER.  45 

Mrs.  Footit  had  a  "habit  of  hiring  a  negro 
boy  who  lived  on  her  farm,  the  son  of  a 
renter,  to  whip  Bud  when  he  would  not  be 
have  himself,  and  this  having  come  to  the 
knowledge  of  Uncle  Tom,  he  had  undertaken 
to  teach  Bud  the  art  of  self-defence,  in  the 
hope  that  he  would,  in  time,  be  able  to  van 
quish  the  black  boy.  So  we  three  retired  to 
the  stable  at  once  to  practise  another  lesson. 
Tying  cotton  batting  around  our  hands  with 
handkerchiefs,  Uncle  Tom  soon  had  us  bang 
ing  away  at  each  other's  heads,  and  parrying, 
and  jumping  out  of  the  way,  and  during  the 
pauses,  when  he  called  "time,"  he  gave  us 
new  ideas,  which  we  were  expected  to  practise 
during  the  next  round. 

Bud  was  the  most  vicious  boy  I  ever  knew, 
and  as  he  hit  me  as  hard  as  he  could,  I  was 
compelled  to  learn  to  box,  too,  or  be  pounded 
up  every  day  Uncle  Tom  was  at  home.  Of 
course  I  wanted  to  see  Bud  whip  the  negro, 
but  it  seemed  to  me  that  in  return  for  my 
kindness  in  practising  with  him,  he  should 


46  A  MAN  STORY. 

have  shown  some  delicacy  in  striking  me.  But 
he  did  not;  so  I  was  compelled  to  strike  back, 
and  keep  out  of  his  way. 

Uncle  Tom  finally  left  us,  and  the  fight  at 
times  became  so  furious  that  we  grabbed  each 
other,  and  tripped,  and  fell,  when  we  rested 
awhile,  and  then  went  at  it  again.  Bud  was 
always  trying  to  "  do "  me,  —  I  don't  know 
where  he  learned  that  word,  but  I  never  liked 
it,  —  and  had  he  succeeded,  I  think  I  should 
have  hoped  for  the  success  of  the  negro  when 
the  fight  came  off. 

He  expressed  a  willingness  to  quit  after 
awhile,  but  I  was  in  bad  humor,  and  walked 
back  to  the  house  alone,  thinking  that  when 
I  finally  came  home  with  blood  and  bruises 
all  over  me,  that  I  could  only  say,  in  expla 
nation  to  the  folks,  that  they  ought  to  see 
Bud  Footit,  for  I  felt  certain  that  a  fight 
between  us  was  inevitable. 

I  was  generally  regarded  as  about  the  most 
promising  boy  in  that  country  ;  I  had  attended 
school  so  long  that  I  was  the  head  scholar, 


THE   BOOMER.  47 

and  crowded  the  house  at  the  exhibitions,  and 
as  Bud  was  a  boy  of  no  consequence,  I  felt  that 
he  did  not  appreciate  my  unselfishness  in  assist 
ing  him  to  learn  how  to  square  an  account 
with  a  negro  enemy.  My  given  name  was 
Chance  (which  I  regarded  as  a  delicate  ad 
mission  that  I  was  the  first  chance  the  family 
had  ever  had  for  distinction),  therefore  his 
habit  of  trying  to  hit  in  the  mouth,  and  his 
attempts  to  blacken  eyes,  were  exceedingly 
exasperating  to  a  boy  who  had  new  clothes 
out  of  his  father's  store  whenever  he  wanted 
them,  and  who  wore  shoes  in  summer,  and 
who  had  nothing  whatever  to  do  except  to 
prepare  himself  for  the  life  of  a  gentleman  ; 
and  as  I  was  as  good  a  boxer  as  he  was,  and 
as  stout,  I  made  up  my  mind  to  show  my 
admirers  in  the  town  that  while  I  could  tell 
how  many  quarts  of  water  the  deepest  cistern 
would  hold,  and  how  many  cubic  yards  there 
were  in  the  pyramids,  I  could  also  give  the 
blacksmith  lessons  in  hard  hitting.  I  had  been 
applauded  by  the  people  because  of  my  fiery 


48  A   MAN  STORY. 

declamations  at  the  school  exhibitions  (all  the 
business  men  of  the  town  being  present,  who 
were  thinking  they  would  bid  high  for  my 
services  when  I  was  ready  to  engage  in  busi 
ness),  and  I  had  now  made  up  my  mind  that 
when  Bud  Footit  came  to  town,  his  father 
leading  him,  because  he  could  not  see  out  of 
his  puffed  eyes,  there  would  be  a  new  sort 
of  applause  for  the  Bennington  boy.  It  was 
not  generally  known  in  the  town  that  I  was 
a  boxer,  but  the  fact  would  soon  come  out, 
and  as  I  walked  through  the  store  I  imagined 
I  could  already  see  Bud's  mother  buying  arnica 
with  which  to  bathe  her  mean  son's  bruises. 


WAS    HE    IN   LOVE?  49 


CHAPTER    V. 

WAS    HE    IN    LOVE? 

UNCLE  TOM  was  great  to  lounge  around  while 
at  home,  and  spent  most  of  his  time  in  his 
room,  where  his  wife  constantly  hovered  around 
him.  They  were  good  enough  to  often  invite 
me  to  visit  them,  and  on  this  particular  morn 
ing,  when  Uncle  Tom  went  off  into  a  sleep, 
I  assisted  Mrs.  Tom  in  fanning  him,  for  it 
was  a  hot  day.  When  there  was  an  unusual 
noise  on  the  outside,  she  was  fearful  that  it 
might  waken  the  sleeper;  but  he  enjoyed 
being  at  home  so  much  that  nothing  disturbed 
him.  When  he  finally  awoke  of  his  own  accord, 
Mrs.  Tom  lifted  his  head  into  her  lap,  as  she 
sat  beside  him  on  the  bed,  and  fondled  him 
like  a  baby. 

"I  am  so  glad  to  have  you  at  home  again," 
she  said,  "  that  you  are  not  to  get  up  at  all, 
and  I  will  bring  your  dinner  up  here." 


50  A   MAN  STORY. 

Uncle  Tom  folded  his  hands  back  of  his 
head,  and,  stretching  out  comfortably,  said  that 
would  be  nice,  but  he  didn't  believe  he  would 
have  his  dinner  just  then,  for  he  was  enjoying 
himself  better  as  he  was. 

"  You  don't  care  if  I  do  impose  on  you, 
do  you?"  he  said,  as  she  was  smoothing  his 
hair,  and  trying  to  remember  what  a  mole 
meant  she  found  on  his  forehead. 

Mrs.  Tom  said  she  enjoyed  being  imposed 
upon,  if  he  called  anything  he  ever  did  im 
posing  on  her,  at  the  same  time  asking  me  to 
please  lower  the  blind  a  little  to  keep  the 
sun  off  his  precious  head. 

"  So  many  people  impose  on  me,"  Uncle  Tom 
continued,  "that  when  my  turn  comes  to  be 
petted,  I  like  it.  I  feel  like  a  headstrong  boy 
who  runs  away,  and  has  come  back  tired  and 
footsore  to  his  home,  where  they  are  all  kind 
and  thoughtful,  instead  of  rough  and  selfish. 
You  have  no  idea  how  unreasonable  some  of 
my  customers  are ;  they  imagine  that  if  they 
find  a  great  deal  of  unreasonable  fault,  I  will 


WAS    HE   IN  LOVE?  51 

be  more  careful  to  protect  their  interests;  but 
I  hope  your  attention  to  me  is  not  prompted 
by  selfishness ;  I  don't  deserve  such  a  bless 
ing,  but  I  believe  you  are  really  fond  of  me, 
and  as  I  am  a  foolish  sort  of  a  fellow,  it  is 
a  great  comfort  to  associate  with  some  one  who 
believes  in  me ;  there  are  so  few  who  do.  Old 
Barnaby,  who  does  not  believe  in  the  nonsense 
that  pleases  me,  would  rave  if  he  should  see 
me  now,  enjoying  myself,  for  he  is  a  very 
cross  man,  and  is  never  satisfied  except  when 
his  men  are  uncomfortable  from  being  snubbed 
by  customers.  I'd  hate  to  have  that  man's 
disposition.  You  are  sure  you  wouldn't  mind 
going  down  after  my  dinner?" 

Mrs.  Tom  was  quite  certain  that  she  shouldn't 
mind  it,  and  Uncle  Tom  requested  her  to  go 
into  the  store  while  she  was  downstairs,  and 
get  him  a  clay  pipe  and  a  package  of  tobacco, 
for  after  his  dinner  he  might  want  to  still  fur 
ther  test  her  good-nature  by  filling  the  room 
with  smoke. 

So   Mrs.   Tom    propped  his    head   up   with   a 


52  A   MAN  STORY. 

pillow,  and  said  good-by  to  him,  which  he  re 
sponded  to  by  waving  his  hand,  and  went  to 
prepare  the  dinner. 

When  she  was  out  of  the  room,  Uncle  Toin 
wanted  to  know  if  I  didn't  think  she  was  a 
good  woman.  I  replied  that  I  thought  she  was 
about  the  best  woman  in  the  world,  which 
seemed  to  please  him;  apparently  he  did  not 
notice  that  I  had  said  "about  the  best  woman 
in  the  world,"  —  the  exception  being  my  mother, 
who  had  such  a  high  opinion  of  me  that  I 
could  not  say  less. 

"You  don't  mind  my  making  love  to  her  in 
your  presence,  do  you?"  he  said  again. 

I  assured  him  that  I  did  not,  and  rather 
enjoyed  it  myself,  since  it  pleased  her  so  much, 
never  once  thinking  that  he  might  be  referring 
to  my  habit  of  staying  with  them  so  much. 
Indeed,  I  do  not  know  that  it  was  on  his 
mind  at  all,  for  he  never  seemed  to  care  for 
my  being  about,  and  I  have  always  hoped  that 
he  accepted  me  as  one  of  his  admirers,  and 
was  glad  to  see  me  at  all  times,  though  when  I 


WAS    HE    IN  LOVE?  53 

remained  with  them  too  long,  he  had  a  way  of 
disposing  of  me  by  suggesting  with  the  great 
est  earnestness  that  a  bed  be  made  up  for  me 
on  the  floor. 

"  I'm  glad  you  don't  mind  it,"  he  said,  "  for 
it  is  a  great  comfort  for  me  to  make  love  to 
your  aunt,  and  the  best  of  it  is,  she  likes  it 
as  well  as  I  do." 

I  thought  he  was  going  off  to  sleep  again, 
for  he  was  silent  quite  a  long  time,  but  finally 
he  said:  "After  you  become  a  man,  and  are 
married,  your  acquaintance  with  Mrs.  Tom  will 
prove  very  unfortunate ;  your  wife  will  seem 
dreadfully  commonplace  after  having  known 
Mrs.  Tom.  I  think  I  hear  her  coming. " 

It  was  Mrs.  Tom  (who  was  really  my 
cousin,  though  I  had  formed  the  habit  of 
calling  her  my  aunt),  and  she  was  followed 
by  Number  Two,  who  carried  the  tray  on 
which  the  dinner  was  laid,  and  though  he  of 
fered  to  retire  at  once,  Uncle  Tom  called  to 
him  to  come  in  and  visit  him.  I  knew  Num 
ber  Two  was  hoping  for  an  invitation  to  come 


54  A   MAN  STORY. 

in,  and  that  he  enjoyed  being  there  as  %much 
as  I  did,  so  he  remained,  and  assisted  in 
placing  the  dinner  on  a  table  we  had  drawn 
up  by  the  bed.  I  am  certain  that  Mrs.  Tom 
invited  him  to  come  up,  and  that  he  carried 
the  tray  as  an  act  of  politeness,  for  she  was 
always  thoughtful  of  him,  and  his  friend. 

Uncle  Tom  was  quite  merry  as  he  ate  his 
dinner,  at  the  idea  of  three  of  us  waiting  on 
him,  and  in  a  bantering  way  ordered  us  to 
put  sugar  in  the  tea,  and  stir  it,  and  cut  the 
toast  into  pieces.  Once  Number  Two  started 
to  go  out,  and  when  Uncle  Tom  protested, 
he  said  he  would  be  glad  to  remain,  but  he 
feared  he  might  stay  too  long,  and  wear  out 
his  welcome,  whereupon  Uncle  Tom  put  him 
at  his  ease  by  saying  that  he  wanted  him  to 
remain  until  it  was  cooler,  when  we  would 
all  go  out  together. 

"I  am  very  fond  of  your  granddaughter,  Mr. 
Bennington,"  Uncle  Tom  said  to  grandfather, 
who  I  thought  barely  remembered  his  name, 
he  had  been  called  Number  Two  so  long.  "I 


WAS   HE   IN  LOVEt  55 

shall  feel  awfully  ashamed  of  myself  when  I 
realize  that  I  am  becoming  tired  of  her.  Of 
course  I  do  not  believe  that  I  shall  ever  tire 
of  her,  but  old  Barnaby  did,  and  you  know 
most  husbands  do." 

I  did  not  know  what  Number  Two's  expe 
rience  had  been,  for  he  had  been  a  widower 
since  I  had  known  him,  but  he  did  not  offer 
to  give  us  his  personal  history,  further  than 
to  say  that  when  you  caught  a  man  at  a 
mean  thing  you  should  remember  that  you 
yourself  were  liable  to  be  caught  the  same 
way  some  time,  and  feel  the  need  of  charity, 
which  was  the  most  commendable  of  all  the 
virtues. 

We  all  agreed  that  there  was  a  good  deal 
in  Number  Two's  suggestion,  and  this  pleased 
him  so  much  that  I  thought  of  his  triumph 
over  Number  One,  who  was  certainly  sitting 
down  in  his  room  regretting  that  he  had  not 
been  invited  upstairs.  Uncle  Tom  added  that 
if  the  people  would  have  charity  for  his 
faults,  he  would  take  pleasure  in  having  char- 


56  A   MAN  STORY. 

ity  for  theirs,  and  as  this  was  exactly  Num 
ber  Two's  idea,  he  was  quite  good-humored. 
Besides  this,  Uncle  Tom  was  addressing  his 
conversation  mainly  to  him,  and  this  was  a 
distinction  not  to  be  forgotten. 

"I  believe  I  would  be  willing  to  take  an 
oath  that  I  shall  never  tire  of  your  grand 
daughter,  and  that  I  will  love  her  more  every 
time  I  see  her,"  Uncle  Tom  continued,  "but 
it  occurred  to  me  just  now,  when  you  were 
speaking  of  charity,  that  if  I  should  realize 
that  I  was  becoming  weary  of  her  presence, 
after  loving  her  as  I  do  now,  and  always 
have,  that  I  should  feel  like  a  very  wicked 
man,  and  feel  the  need  of  the  virtue  you 
speak  so  highly  of.  I  am  always  making  love 
to  Mrs.  Tom,  but  many  things  come  into  my 
mind  that  I  do  not  utter,  for  the  memory  of 
them  would  make  me  ashamed  should  I  ever 
tire  of  her.  I  often  feel  like  saying  that  I 
intend  to  devote  my  life  to  her,  but  old  Bar- 
naby  said  that  to  his  wife,  and  he  hates  her 
now ;  he  is  really  devoting  his  life  to  making  it 


WAS    HE    IN  LOVE?  57 

disagreeable  for  her.  I  find  it  impossible  to 
keep  old  Barnaby  out  of  my  mind,  somehow, 
he  acts  so  much  like  a  man ;  and  while  I 
hope  to  do  differently,  I  cannot  help  remem 
bering  that  the  world  is  full  of  men  who 
have  failed  after  making  the  best  of  promises. 
You  don't  mind  what  I  have  said,  do  you, 
Mrs.  Tom?" 

"No,  I  don't  think  I  do,"  his  wife  replied; 
"but  I  am  sorry  you  ever  thought  it  possible  you 
would  tire  of  me." 

"Well,  I  couldn't  very  well  help  it  with 
the  example  of  old  Barnaby  always  before 
me.  I  don't  believe  I  ever  shall  tire  of 
you,  but  when  I  see  a  very  old  man,  I  can't 
help  thinking  of  the  habit  men  have  of  becom 
ing  old,  and  that  I  am  on  the  same  road.  I'd 
give  a  good  deal  to  know  whether  old  Barnaby 
was  ever  as  fond  of  his  wife  as  I  am  of  you. 
Maybe  he  was,  though,  and  that  is  one 
reason  why  he  is  ashamed  to  go  into  her 
presence  now;  he  fears  she  will  remember  some 
of  the  sweet  things  he  once  said  to  her,  and 


58  A   MAN  STORY. 

quote  them.  Old  Barnaby  is  not  a  gushy 
man,  and  when  I  think  of  it,  I  have  no  doubt 
that  he  was  as  much  in  earnest  in  making  love 
to  his  wife  as  I  am  in  making  love  to  you,  so  it 
must  be  that  in  this  respect  the  to-morrow  of 
men's  lives  is  beyond  their  control.  Old  Bar 
naby  has  his  faults,  and  I  do  not  attempt  to 
excuse  them,  but  from  what  I  know  of  him 
I  do  not  imagine  that  he  was  insincere  when 
he  declared  to  Mrs.  Barnaby  that  he  loved 
her.  Were  it  not  for  the  experience  of  old 
Barnaby,  I  should  take  pride  in  dedicating  my 
poor  life  to  Mrs.  Tom,  and  probably  shed  a 
few  tears  because  of  my  earnestness,  for  that 
is  the  way  I  feel;  but  with  the  experience  of 
my  employer  before  me,  I  am  afraid  to  do  it ; 
I  am  afraid  that  I  may  turn  out  another  Bar 
naby,  for  it  is  not  what  a  man  is  anxious  or 
willing  to  do  that  is  counted  to  his  credit,  but 
what  he  actually  accomplishes." 

Grandfather  said  he  believed  he  should  like 
to  know  old  Barnaby,  as  he  felt  certain  that 
he  would  have  charity  for  the  faults  of  others. 


WAS    HE    IN   LOVE?  59 

Uncle  Tom  was  certain  he  would  have,  where 
upon  grandfather  said  that  was  the  mark  of  a 
man. 

Bud  Footit  came  slouching  into  the  room  at 
this  time,  looking  for  a  fight,  I  thought ;  but 
as  Uncle  Tom  did  not  encourage  him,  he  sat 
down  to  think  of  new  ways  to  hit  me.  It 
occurred  to  me  as  I  looked  at  him  that  he 
deserved  all  the  whippings  he  received  at  home ; 
and  that  he  in  particular  deserved  the  one  I 
intended  to  give  him,  for  I  had  resolved  that 
since  he  did  not  appreciate  a  friend,  I  would 
teach  him  to  respect  an  enemy. 

"The  people  I  meet  travelling  on  the  road," 
Uncle  Tom  continued,  after  discussing  old 
Barnaby's  charity,  and  without  noticing  Bud, 
which  pleased  me,  "do  not  venerate  and  re 
spect  me  as  you  do  here,  and  it  is  possible  that 
when  a  man  has  an  attentive  audience,  he  talks 
too  freely  and  too  long,  but  you.  will  pardon 
me  if  I  say  I  wonder  I  am  not  ashamed  to  be 
in  love,  with  all  my  experience  of  men.  There 
is  some  excuse  for  a  young  fellow  being  in 


60  A   MAN  STORY. 

love  who  imagines  that  his  intended  wife  is 
an  angel;  but  I  know  that  Mrs.  Tom  is  a 
woman,  and  yet  I  can't  help  loving  her  madly 
and  foolishly.  They  say  that  women  make 
more  of  love  than  men,  and  that  it  is  more  im 
portant  to  them;  but  no  girl  was  ever  more 
ridiculously  fond  of  her  first  sweetheart  than 
I  am  of  my  wife,  and  I  have  been  married 
two  years.  A  man  with  the  worldly  experi 
ence  that  I  have  had  ought  to  know  better 
than  to  make  much  of  love,  for  the  reason  that 
old  Barnaby  once  worshipped  his  wife,  and 
now  despises  her.  I  have  heard  it  said  that 
no  man  ever  thoroughly  hates  a  woman  unless 
he  has  once  loved  her,  and  one  really  should  not 
make  much  of  anything  so  unstable  as  that. 
I  met  an  old  gentleman  on  the  cars  one  day 
who  had  been  married  six  times,  and  he  con 
fessed  to  me  that  he  had  been  in  love  just  the 
same  way  every  time ;  that  on  five  different 
occasions  that  which  he  had  considered  the  love 
of  his  life  had  been  entirely  forgotten ;  on  five 
different  occasions  he  had  felt  that  as  his  love 


WAS    HE    IN  LOVE?  61 

was  dead,  he  must  die  too ;  but  nature  applied 
a  healing  balm  to  his  lacerated  heart,  and  he 
speedily  forgot  the  old  love  in  a  new  one.  No 
one  is  to  blame  that  this  is  the  case,  and  it 
is  a  wise  provision  that  we  can  off  with  the 
old  love  and  on  with  the  new  so  easily,  for 
otherwise  the  world  would  be  filled  with 
mourning;  but  it  is  the  case,  therefore  I  say 
it  is  ridiculous  for  an  intelligent  person  to 
think  as  much  of  another  as  I  do  of  Mrs.  Tom. 
The  natural  order  of  things  is  right,  and  I 
am  to  blame  for  a  lack  of  wisdom  in  making 
more  of  love  than  of  anything  else  in  the 
world.  It  is  a  dangerous  habit.  Being  in  love 
will  give  you  brain  disease,  for  the  worry  of 
it  is  worse  than  overwork.  I  neglect  my  busi 
ness  every  day  to  think  about  my  love  affair; 
but  it  happens  to  be  agreeable  to  me  now.  I 
have  known  men  who  carried  charms  in  their 
pockets,  and  who  said  that  they  were  thus 
cured  of  serious  disorders;  the  charm  I  carry 
cures  me  of  everything,  and  I  believe  in  it, 
though  I  laugh  at  the  men  who  carry  butter- 


62  A   MAN  STORY. 

nuts  for  rheumatism,  as  I  am  certain  the  world 
laughs  at  me. 

"You  perhaps  never  knew  any  one  of  appar 
ent  good  sense  who  really  knew  as  little  as  I 
do.  When  I  have  arranged  to  see  Mrs.  Tom 
on  a  Thursday,  I  fear  that  the  order  of  things 
will  be  changed,  and  that  Thursday  will  never 
come  again.  I  know  better,  but  I  do  not  do 
any  better  than  the  silliest  man  alive.  When 
I  think  of  my  long  absences  from  Mrs.  Tom, 
and  permit  myself  to  think  of  how  sincerely 
I  long  to  see  her,  I  am  as  bad  as  a  home 
sick  girl,  except  that  I  do  not  cry;  I  might 
cry  did  I  not  have  the  faculty  of  realizing 
how  sill}T  I  am,  and  then  I  laugh ;  but  it  is 
a  dreadfully  weary  laugh ;  there  is  no  mirth 
in  it,  and  I  am  as  lonesome  as  ever.  And  the 
worst  of  it  is  the  habit  is  growing  on  me  ;  but 
I  know  a  remedy,  —  if  I  can't  do  any  better, 
I  will  come  home,  and  stay  long  enough  to 
get  tired  of  her." 

He  was  at  once  invited  to  declare  that  he 
would  always  love  his  wife,  and  that  he  would 


WAS    HE    IN  LOVE?  63 

never  forget  her,  which  he  did  by  nodding 
and  shaking  his  head;  and  then  he  told  about 
a  man  he  had.  once  known  who  had  a  pretty 
daughter.  She  engaged  herself  to  a  man  the 
father  did  not  like,  and  the  father  declared 
he  would  never  consent  to  the  marriage ;  but 
after  a  time  he  yielded,  being  fond  of  his 
child.  But  by  this  time  the  daughter  had 
formed  a  new  attachment,  which  she  was  cer 
tain  was  the  one  of  her  life,  and  again  the 
father  was  asked  for  his  blessing.  He  refused 
to  give  it.  He  had  consented  to  the  first  one, 
but  he  announced  that  he  would  hold  out  for 
ever  against  the  second  young  man.  He  was 
worried  a  long  time,  and  held  out  faithfully 
several  months,  but  at  last  he  gave  in,  only 
to  discover  that  his  daughter  had  made  a  mis 
take  ;  she  did  not  love  either  of  the  young 
men,  she  said.  Then  she  fell  in  love  with  a 
third  young  man,  and  was  sure  she  was  in 
earnest  this  time,  and  the  father  consented  to 
him,  after  the  usual  struggle ;  then  he  was 
asked  to  consent  to  a  fourth,  and  a  fifth,  and 


64  A   MAX  STORY. 

finally  died  of  sorrow  while  holding  out  against 
a   sixth. 

"  The  great  hope  of  my  life,"  Uncle  Tom 
continued,  returning  to  his  own  affair,  "is 
that  I  may  be  able  to  conduct  myself  in  such 
a  manner  that  after  Mrs.  Tom  quits  speaking 
to  me,  she  can  think  of  nothing  serious  to  my 
discredit  further  than  that  I  am  tiresome,  and 
that  she  is  tired  of  me  ;  I  want  to  be  so  fair 
with  her  that  she  cannot  hate  me,  as  Mrs.  B. 
does  old  Barnaby ;  who  deserves  it,  no  doubt, 
for  it  is  said  that  he  quarrels.  I  intend  to 
improve  on  old  Barnaby  in  another  respect: 
When  I  discover  that  Mrs.  Tom  is  tiring  of 
me,  I  intend  to  disappear,  and  spend  the  re 
mainder  of  my  life  in  thinking  how  agreeable 
she  was  before  she  tired  of  me;  I  would  pre 
fer  the  memory  of  Mrs.  Tom  as  she  is  now  to 
the  presence  and  love  of  any  other  woman. 
That  is,  I  think  so  now;  I  suppose  I  would 
fall  in  love  again  in  a  month,  but  in  such 
an  event  I  am  certain  that  I  should  feel 
ashamed  of  myself.  By  the  way,  when  we  go 


WAS    HE   IN  LOVEf  65 

out    driving,    suppose     we     go     over     to     Mrs. 
Footit's." 

When  he  made  this  proposition,  his  wife 
usually  said,  "  Tom,  you  only  want  to  go  there 
to  laugh  at  them ; "  and  Uncle  Tom  usually 
replied,  "  No,  I  want  to  see  them ;  they  are 
friends  of  mine,  since  they  are  friends  of  yours, 
and  I  want  to  do  my  duty  by  calling  there," 
but  as  Bud  was  present,  the  proposition  was 
agreed  to.  So  it  was  arranged  that  during  the 
drive  we  should  call  on  Mrs.  Footit,  who 
lived  four  miles  in  the  country ;  and  soon  after 
we  started,  Uncle  Tom  and  Number  Two  on 
the  front  seat,  and  Bud  and  Mrs.  Tom  and  I 
on  the  back  one. 


66  A  MAN  STORY. 


CHAPTER    VI. 

ONE    OF    OUR    NEIGHBORS. 

MRS.  FOOTIT  was  only  an  old  acquaintance 
of  my  father's,  although  Number  One  always 
insisted  on  referring  to  her  as  a  relative,  for 
he  was  so  thoroughly  impressed  with  the  idea 
that  his  daughter  had  married  into  a  bad 
family  that  he  never  read  accounts  of  hang 
ings  out  loud,  fearful  that  he  might  give 
offence. 

The  Boomer  was  no  doubt  responsible  for 
this  absurd  idea,  for  in  his  disgust  for  the 
distinguished  relatives  Number  One  and  his 
daughter  were  always  talking  about,  he  some 
times  pretended  to  have  heard  that  a  relative 
of  his  own  had  been  hanged,  or  sent  to 
jail.  Number  Two  entered  heartily  into  the 
Boomer's  only  pleasantry,  and  I  have  heard 
them  carry  on  quite  ridiculously  concerning 


ONE   OF   OUR  NEIGHBORS.  67 

their  distressingly  worthless  kin.  This  was  in 
tended  as  a  thrust  at  relative-worshippers  in 
general,  but  Number  One  would  not  so  un 
derstand  it,  and  accepted  everything  that  was 
said  in  this  vein  with  so  much  earnestness 
that  the  joke  was  finally  given  up. 

I  was  allowed  to  go  to  Mrs.  Footit's  as 
often  as  I  pleased,  but  I  seldom  took  advan 
tage  of  the  opportunity,  except  in  company 
with  Uncle  Tom,  who  never  came  home  with 
out  calling  upon  her,  for  I  think  she  amused 
him.  Mrs.  Footit  was  a  tall  woman  with  a 
great  deal  of  bone,  which  seemed  to  stick  out 
in  every  direction,  for  I  remember  that  when 
ever  she  kissed  me,  I  experienced  the  sensa 
tion  of  being  struck  in  the  face  by  a  man 
who  smoked,  for  her  chin-bone  always  reached 
me  before  her  lips  did.  She  kissed  me  on 
the  visit  in  question,  as  a  tribute  to  Uncle  Tom, 
I  think,  for  she  was  as  fond  of  him  as  the 
rest  of  us  were,  and  I  afterwards  tasted  a 
piece  of  tobacco  on  my  lips,  which  gave  me 
the  impression  that  Mrs.  Footit  also  chewed. 


68  A   MAN  STORY. 

I  had  always  known  of  her  smoking,  and  I 
had  privately  accused  her  of  chewing,  and  per 
haps  drinking  and  swearing,  for  she  was  dis 
agreeable  to  me,  and  I  was  willing  to  think 
almost  anything  of  her. 

The  place  where  they  lived  was  known  as 
"Mrs.  Footit's,"  her  husband  being  of  so  lit 
tle  importance  that  no  one  ever  thought  of 
him,  except  to  wonder  that  he  did  not  quietly 
disappear  sometime,  for  he  was  a  very  good 
man,  and  did  not  smoke,  nor  chew,  nor  swear; 
on  the  contrary,  he  was  very  abstemious  and 
industrious,  and  although  he  had  a  good  farm, 
and  money  to  spare,  strangers  thought  of  Mrs. 
Footit  as  a  widow  until  they  met  a  quiet  little 
man,  and  learned  that  he  was  Mr.  Footit. 

Uncle  Tom  made  a  great  deal  of  Footit,  as 
he  did  of  all  those  who  were  neglected,  but 
before  Footit  had  done  smiling  on  the  evening 
in  question  because  of  Uncle  Tom's  kindness, 
there  was  trouble  over  the  circumstance  that 
his  son  Bud  had  refused  to  speak  to  Uncle 
Tom. 


ONE    OF    OUR  NEIGHBORS.  69 

"Til  blow  the  horn  if  you  don't,"  his  mother 
said,  in  a  voice  which  sounded  like  a  man's; 
but  Bud  was  stubborn,  and  did  not  move. 
It  seemed  that  his  mother  had  told  him  to 
approach  Uncle  *  Tom,  and  say,  "  I  am  very 
glad  to  see  you,  Uncle  Thomas,"  which  Bud 
refused  to  do.  Mrs.  Footit  did  not  know  that 
Bud  had  been  to  town  that  day  expressly  to 
see  Uncle  Tom,  or  that  he  was  at  our  house 
a  good  deal  when  Uncle  Tom  was  at  home, 
or  that  he  came  over  with  us  in  the  carriage, 
so  she  insisted  on  his  being  polite,  "for  once 
in  his  life,"  she  expressed  it,  with  a  snort. 

But  there  was  something  in  the  command 
that  the  boy  did  not  like,  so  he  stubbornly 
hung  his  head  and  refused  to  move. 

"  I'm  too  big  to  whip  you  myself,"  Mrs. 
Footit  said,  as  she  crushed  a  piece  of  natural 
leaf  tobacco  in  the  palm  of  her  hand,  and  rilled 
a  clay  pipe,  "but  you  know  I'll  get  some 
body  of  your  size  that  will  do  it ;  your  father 
lets  you  go  on  like  a  heathen,  but  I'll  have 
it  out  with  you,  even  if  there  is  company." 


70  A   MAN  STORY. 

Footit  acted  as  though  he  wanted  to  pro 
test,  but  I  felt  certain  that  he  was  afraid  to, 
and  that  he  only  escaped  whippings  himself 
because  he  was  always  amiable ;  and  although 
the  others  felt  awkward,  Mrs.  Footit  was  very 
determined,  and  when  Bud  would  not  say, 
"  How  do  you  do,  Uncle  Thomas ;  I  am  very 
glad  to  see  you,"  she  went  out  to  the  porch, 
and  blew  a  tremendous  blast  on  a  tin  horn. 
We  all  understood  it,  and  silently  waited  un 
til  we  heard  some  one  dash  up  the  steps  and 
into  the  house ;  a  stout  negro  boy  of  Bud's 
age,  whose  father  lived  on  the  farm,  and  who 
was  regularly  hired  to  whip  Bud  when  he 
would  not  behave,  being  summoned  by  a  blast 
on  the  tin  horn,  and  receiving  ten  cents  for 
his  trouble. 

The  negro  knew  what  was  expected  of  him, 
and  without  paying  any  attention  to  the  com 
pany,  he  walked  up  to  Bud  and  attempted  to 
slap  his  cheek.  Bud  warded  off  the  blow  with 
his  left,  and  hit  the  negro  a  tremendous  blow 
in  the  chest  with  his  right,  which  staggered 


ONE   OF  OUR  NEIGHBORS.  71 

him,  and  I  felt  that  the  fight  so  long  ex 
pected  was  now  in  progress,  for  Bud  waf, 
thoroughly  alive,  and  held  his  hands  in  a  man 
ner  which  must  have  satisfied  his  trainer. 
Mrs.  Tom  had  never  countenanced  the  boxing 
lessons,  but  her  husband  was  so  much  amused, 
and  it  was  all  so  ridiculous,  that  to  keep  from 
laughing  she  went  into  another  room.  Uncle 
Tom  pretended  to  be  silently  regretting  that 
it  was  necessary  to  punish  a  boy  in  this  man 
ner,  however  bad  he  was,  though  he  narrowly 
watched  his  pupil,  and  both  the  parents  were 
amazed  to  see  how  their  son  was  acting.  It 
was  an  amazing  sight,  I  think,  for  Bud  was 
hopping  about  the  negro  like  a  professional, 
and  just  as  I  was  on  the  point  of  suggesting 
that  he  give  him  the  undercut  (having  for 
gotten  my  own  grievance  in  the  excitement), 
he  thought  of  it  himself,  and  staggered  the 
negro  half  across  the  room  with  a  blow  on  the 
chin.  Mrs.  Footit  offered  to  interfere  at  this 
point,  and  help  the  negro,  but  Uncle  Tom 
good-naturedly  held  her  back,  and  said  the 


72  A   MAN  STORY. 

white  boy  ought  to  have  a  show.  The  negro 
soon  recovered,  and  blindly  dashed  at  his  an 
tagonist,  but  Bud  jumped  out  of  the  way, 
and  hit  him  again  as  he  passed,  precisely  as 
Uncle  Tom  had  suggested,  and  then  began 
slugging  him  so  hard  that  the  negro  soon  ran 
out  of  the  room,  crying.  Bud  sat  down  as 
though  nothing  had  happened,  but  Mrs.  Footit 
put  on  her  bonnet  and  went  out,  and  when 
she  came  back  she  said  she  had  sent  the  boy's 
father  off,  as  she  would  not  have  such  a  worth 
less  renter  011  the  place. 

Before  the  trouble  was  fairly  under  way,  it 
had  occurred  to  me  that  in  case  Bud  was  a 
winner  I  should  propose  to  Mrs.  Footit  to 
chastise  him  at  proper  intervals  myself,  though 
I  would  scorn  to  take  the  ten  cents  for  each 
whipping  that  had  been  formerly  paid  the 
negro;  but  Bud  had  conducted  himself  with 
such  surprising  ability  during  the  fight,  that  I 
concluded  to  postpone  my  own  engagement 
with  him  until  I  was  crowded. 

Mrs.    Footit    soon    recovered    herself,   and    in- 


ONE    OF   OUR  NEIGHBORS.  73 

quired  after  Uncle  Tom's  health  and  prospects 
quite  pleasantly,  after  making  an  apology  for 
the  fight.  She  put  the  blame  on  Footit,  al 
though  Footit  had  had  nothing  to  do  with  it, 
and  also  stated  that  although  in  other  families 
it  was  the  habit  of  fathers  to  correct  their 
children,  she  found  it  necessary  to  hire  the 
neighbors  when  Bud  became  unmanageable,  as 
was  often  the  case,  as  I  knew;  I  think  I  had 
never  been  at  their  house  that  the  negro 
boy  had  not  been  called  in  to  earn  a  dime. 

The  fight  reminded  Mrs.  Footit  of  her  other 
troubles,  and  as  she  sat  smoking  her  pipe, 
and  blowing  rings  into  the  air,  she  grumbled 
and  growled  at  a  furious  rate,  which  I  thought 
greatly  delighted  Uncle  Tom,  although  he 
seemed  quietly  pleased  over  the  success  of 
his  pupil.  I  think  that  Mrs.  Tom  was  also 
amused,  in  spite  of  her  former  protests  against 
the  boxing  lessons,  for  I  caught  her  smiling 
several  times  when  there  was  nothing  funny 
in  the  conversation. 

Footit   was  in   a  stupefied  but   pleasant  frame 


74  A  MAN  STORY. 

of  mind,  I  thought,  and  did  not  seem  to 
hear  the  grumbling  of  his  wife,  which  should 
have  interested  him  immensely,  for  he  was 
concerned.  It  had  always  been  disagreeable 
to  me,  but  Uncle  Tom  seemed  to  enjoy  it, 
and  did  everything  he  could  to  keep  her 
going.  At  some  time  in  her  life  Mrs.  Footit 
had  been  engaged  to  be  married  to  a  young 
man  who  clerked  in  a  store,  —  she  said  she 
had,  but  I  never  believed  it,  —  and  she  talked 
a  great  deal  of  her  folly  in  giving  up  this 
chance  for  social  promotion  to  oblige  Footit. 
It  seemed  very  funny  to  Uncle  Tom  that 
Mrs.  Footit  should  regard  this  circumstance  as 
of  such  great  importance,  but  Footit  seemed 
to  share  in  the  opinion  that  the  opportunity 
was  one  of  a  lifetime,  for  he  roused  up  pres 
ently,  and  said  to  Uncle  Tom  and  me  softly 
that  he  had  seen  the  clerk,  and  that  he  was 
really  a  great  chance  ;  though  he  hoped  no  one 
would  say  that  he  had  ever  failed  in  trying  to 
make  Mrs.  Footit  a  good  husband.  His  wife 
heard  the  remark,  for  she  had  sharp  ears,  and  said : 


ONE   OF   OUR  NEIGHBORS.  75 

"  Oh,  you've  done  the  best  you  could, 
Footit;  nobody  cares  to  deny  that;  but  no 
body  will  deny  that  the  best  you  can  do 
amounts  to  little  enough." 

This  shut  up  Footit  for  the  night,  and  he 
spent  the  remainder  of  the  evening  in  trying 
to  hide  Bud,  who  had  settled  down  on  the 
floor  beside  him.  Footit  occasionally  stroked 
the  boy's  head,  as  a  mother  might  do  after 
her  child  had  been  beaten  by  a  hard  father, 
for  he  seemed  to  fear  that  Mrs.  Footit  would 
put  on  the  gloves  with  him  herself  before  the 
evening  was  over,  and  in  that  event  his  box 
ing  lessons  would  do  him  no  good;  indeed, 
Mrs.  Footit  was  so  big  and  bony  that  I 
feared  that  in  case  Uncle  Tom  offended  her 
in  any  way,  she  would  whip  Bud's  teacher. 
During  the  evening  the  Boomer's  bond  trans 
action  with  Footit  occurred  to  her,  and  the 
angry  reference  she  made  to  it  made  me  feel 
that  my  father  should  take  boxing  lessons 
without  any  unnecessary  delay. 

Footit    was    immensely    pleased    when    Uncle 


76  A   MAN  STORY. 

Tom  gave  the  boy  a  piece  of  money,  and 
although  Mrs.  Footit  saw  it,  and  said  he 
would  probably  swallow  it,  and  choke  him 
self,  the  good-natured  way  in  which  Uncle 
Tom  laughed  at  the  idea  convinced  me  that 
the  present  was  a  dollar,  and  that  Bud  could 
not  swallow  it. 

There  was  a  cradle  in  the  room,  in  which 
a  baby  girl  was  sleeping,  and  when  the  child 
became  restless,  Mrs.  Footit  told  Bud  to  rock 
it.  He  sullenly  consented,  but  I  noticed  that 
he  moved  the  cradle  in  a  certain  jerky  way 
intended  to  disturb  the  child,  for  it  soon  began 
crying,  and  the  father  took  it  in  his  arms, 
and  walked  softly  up  and  down  the  room  to 
comfort  it.  Mrs.  Footit  paid  no  attention  at 
all,  as  she  was  still  talking  of  Hickey,  the 
clerk,  and  Bud  went  back  to  his  corner, 
where  he  looked  malicious  so  pleasantly  that 
I  thought  that  he  had  discovered  the  jerky 
way  of  rocking  the  cradle  some  time  before. 

Mrs.  Tom  was  as  indignant  as  she  could  be 
with  her  husband  because  of  the  manner  in 


ONE   OF   OUR  NEIGHBORS.  77 

which  he  led  Mrs.  Footit  up  to  the  clerk, 
for  he  sympathized  with  her  grief,  and  said 
the  clerk  must  suffer,  too,  which  brought  out 
the  revelation  (which  he  had  heard  several  times 
before)  that  the  clerk  was  married,  and  that. 
Mrs.  Footit  never  went  to  town,  or  met  a 
stranger,  that  she  did  not  hear  what  a 
devoted  husband  the  clerk  was,  and  how  he 
added  a  new  addition  to  his  house  every  year  ; 
but  if  Mrs.  Tom  was  distressed  on  Footit's 
account,  as  was  probable,  her  sympathy  was 
misplaced,  for  that  worthy  gentleman  appar 
ently  enjoyed  hearing  that  the  jewel  now  in 
his  possession  was  once  coveted  by  the  greatest 
in  the  land,  and  he  seemed  quite  affected 
when  Mrs.  Footit  wept  over  the  recollection 
of  her  misfortunes  in  a  loud  way,  which  made 
me  think  it  was  funny.  Indeed,  I  could  not 
help  smiling  in  a  silly  sort  of  way  at  Footit,  who 
no  doubt  thought  my  joy  related  to  the  present 
of  a  dollar  to  Bud,  but  he  looked  very  grave, 
as  though  there  were  some  griefs  in  life  which 
no  amount  of  money  could  put  out  of  mind. 


78  A  MAN  STORY. 

He  lost  all  interest  in  his  wife's  conversa 
tion  as  soon  as  she  ceased  talking  of  Hickey, 
and  discussed  styles  with  Mrs.  Tom,  for  he 
sat  down  near  my  grandfather  and  modestly 
talked  to  him,  at  the  same  time  keeping  his 
arms  moving  to  quiet  the  baby.  Mrs.  Tom 
was  very  neat  in  matters  of  dress,  but  Mrs. 
Footit  had  a  wretched  figure,  though  it  was 
not  so  bad  as  her  style  of  dressing,  and  her 
remarks  on  the  subject  were  ludicrous,  but 
she  remembered  that  Hickey  had  once  said 
that  pink  became  her.  This  reference  to  the 
clerk  caused  Footit  to  come  over  to  her  side 
again,  that  he  might  learn  all  that  was  possi 
ble  concerning  the  great  man,  but  he  returned 
to  Number  Two  when  his  wife  asked  Mrs. 
Tom's  judgment  as  to  the  respective  merits 
of  green  and  yellow  for  hat  trimming. 

On  the  way  home  Uncle  Tom  said  that  old 
Barnaby  ought  to  know  Footit,  and  even 
talked  of  bringing  his  employer  to  Fog  Lake 
at  some  time  in  the  future  to  give  him 
opportunity  to  meet  a  very  rare  man.  He 


ONE   OF   OUR  NEIGHBORS.  79 

talked  a  great  deal  about  old  Barnaby  that 
night,  and  we  learned  that  he  had  not  spoken 
to  his  wife  in  a  number  of  years,  though  they 
lived  under  the  same  roof.  Uncle  Tom  had 
seen  Mrs.  Barnaby,  and  spoke  of  her  as  quite 
a  handsome  woman,  from  which  I  imagined 
that  she  must  be  much  younger  than  her 
husband,  and  he  said  to  Mrs.  Tom  that  when 
she  went  to  the  City  with  him,  they  would 
call  on  the  couple  ;  he  felt  sure  that  she  would 
be  as  much  interested  in  them  as  he  was  in 
Footit  and  his  wife. 

During  the  drive  home  Mrs.  Tom  occupied 
a  place  beside  her  husband  on  the  front  seat, 
and  while  he  talked  in  the  old  strain  of  his 
folly  in  being  so  desperately  in  love  with 
her,  there  was  something  pathetic  in  all  he 
said ;  he  was  always  so  lonely  and  so  tired, 
while  on  the  road,  that  when  he  came  to  Fog 
Lake  he  was  ashamed  of  the  peace  and  content 
he  experienced,  for  he  feared  that  in  a  little 
while  he  would  be  thinking  up  excuses  to 
avoid  coming  home  so  often.  This  was  not 


80  A   MAN  STORY. 

said  in  a  bantering  or  flippant  way,  but  as  a 
man  might  speak  of  the  certainty  that  the 
one  pleasant  delusion  left  him  would  soon 
vanish,  and  leave  him  tired  and  lonely,  and 
without  hope  of  relief.  We  were  quite  a  long 
time  in  driving  home,  and  Uncle  Tom  did  not  once 
notice  the  presence  of  Number  Two  and  my 
self  on  the  back  seat,  but  spoke  of  himself 
to  Mrs.  Tom  as  a  spoilt  child  who  was  per 
fectly  happy  in  the  possession  of  a  poor  toy 
to  be  soon  forgotten. 


MORE   OF  THE  LOVE  STORY.  81 


CHAPTER     VII. 

MORE     OF    THE    LOVE     STORY. 

UNCLE  TOM  spent  the  next  day  as  he  had 
spent  the  day  before,  in  lounging  about  his 
room,  and  I  doubt  if  Mrs.  Tom  paid  him 
more  attention  than  I  did,  for  we  were  both 
with  him  constantly.  Occasionally  he  talked 
with  the  greatest  seriousness  of  his  love  for 
his  wife,  but  I  noticed  that  he  always  smiled 
at  his  declarations,  as  though  they  were  ridic 
ulous,  as  he  always  smiled  when  he  nodded  his 
head  to  declare  that  he  would  always  love 
Mrs.  Tom,  or  shook  it  to  announce  that  he 
would  never  forget  her ;  but  it  was  the  good- 
humored  laugh  of  a  man  who  might  say  that, 
having  eaten  heartily,  he  did  not  feel  that  he 
would  ever  be  hungry  again. 

"I    know    better    than    to    be   in     love,"    he 
said,   from   the    easy-chair  in   which    Mrs.    Tom 


82  A    MAN  STORY. 

had  propped  him  in  such  a  manner  as  to  make 
him  as  comfortable  as  possible,  ubut  there 
were  so  many  things  I  wanted  said,  and  you 
said  them  all,  in  almost  the  words  I  used  in 
thinking  of  them,  so  I  forgot  old  Barnaby, 
and  the  fact  that  a  man  in  love  is  wretched 
because  of  doubts  and  jealousies,  and  ends  by 
hating  his  wife.  The  people  you  know  on  the 
road  (as  you  know  a  street,  and  care  little 
for)  think  of  everything  to  your  discredit,  and 
while  much  of  their  gossip  concerning  you  is 
true,  every  one  feels  that  there  are  a  few  things 
that  can  be  said  to  his  credit,  and  longs  for 
some  one  to  say  them ;  this  is  the  favor  you 
have  done  me,  for  there  is  nothing  to  my 
credit  that  you  have  not  expressed.  I  am 
possessed  of  very  few  virtues,  but  you  men 
tion  them  frequently.  I  am  so  grateful  to 
you  for  this  that  it  really  seems  to  me  that 
if  I  should  lose  you  in  any  way,  I  should  not 
care  to  live  any  longer ;  but  when  I  realize 
that  what  I  say  in  the  most  serious  earnestness  is 
nonsense,  I  fear  that  there  is  nothing  serious 


MORE  OF  THE  LOVE  STORY.  83 

or  worthy  about  me.  I  was  never  in  earnest 
in  my  life  until  I  fell  in  love  with  you;  you 
are  oftener  in  my  thoughts  than  religion,  bus 
iness,  and  patriotism  combined,  and  I  cannot 
feel  flattered  when  I  reflect  that  this  one  en 
thusiasm  of  my  life  is  liable  to  be  forgotten 
in  a  year.  I  regret  that  love  is  not  like  the 
true  religion, — something  that  you  can  be  con 
stant  to  all  your  life,  and  find  a  comfort  when 
death  itself  comes ;  but  it  isn't ;  every  man 
who  has  deserted  his  wife  has  probably  felt 
love  as  keenly  as  I  do,  and  expressed  it  in 
almost  exactly  the  same  words." 

From  something  Uncle  Tom  said  that  day, 
I  came  to  believe  that  old  Barnaby  was  in 
the  wrong  in  the  quarrel  with  his  wife ; 
Uncle  Tom  said  that  were  old  Barnaby  in  his 
situation,  he  would  not  enjoy  Mrs.  Tom's  com 
pany  from  thinking  of  the  separation ;  that  if 
he  had  a  taste  for  liquor,  he  would  be  drink 
ing  it  all  the  time,  and  find  fault  with  his 
tipple  after  he  had  tired  of  its  taste  and  effect. 
From  this,  and  from  other  things  that  were 


84  A   MAN  STORY. 

said,  I  imagined  that  Mr.  Barnaby  was  a  very 
unreasonable  old  man,  and  that  his  young  wife 
was  a  very  wretched  and  unfortunate  woman. 
Old  Barnaby 's  appetite  was  never  satisfied,  it 
seemed;  when  he  got  enough  of  one  thing,  he 
regretted  that  he  ate  that,  and  stormed  around 
because  he  did  not  try  something  else. 

"A  man  was  hanged  in  the  city  last  week 
for  wife  murder,"  Uncle  Tom  told  us,  "  and 
I  remember  that,  when  the  trial  was  progress 
ing,  the  newspapers  published  his  love  letters. 
They  were  exquisitely  beautiful,  and  I  blushed 
when  I  saw  that,  in  writing  to  his  wife,  the 
murderer  had  used  many  expressions  I  had 
used  in  writing  to  you ;  the  fellow  afterwards 
killed  his  wife  because  he  hated  her.  I  feel 
that  my  sex  is  disgraced  when  I  recall  such 
things,  and  I  only  do  it  to  curb  my  ridicu 
lous  passion  for  you;  you  cannot  imagine  how 
ardently  I  wish  that  human  experience  would 
allow  me  to  believe  that  I  shall  always  be  as 
happy  as  I  am  now.  But  when  I  finally  tire 
of  you,  as  old  Barnaby  did  of  his  wife,  I 


MORE   OF  THE  LOVE  STORY.  85 

hope  you  will  not  accuse  me  of  being  selfish 
and  fickle,  for  I  shall  only  tire  of  you  when 
I  cannot  help  it ;  because  it  is  my  nature, 
and  I  cannot  rise  above  it.  I  hope  you  will 
charitably  remember  that  the  foolish  earnest 
ness  of  a  fickle  man  is  the  only  earnestness 
the  world  affords.  The  man  who  says  he  will 
never  forget  the  town  in  which  he  lives,  is  in 
earnest,  so  far  as  he  is  capable  of  being  in 
earnest  in  anything,  and  he  should  not  be 
blamed  when  he  moves  away,  and  forgets  the 
old  home  in  admiring  the  new. 

"Had  I  never  been  as  fond  of  you  as  I 
am,  I  might  conceal  my  disgust  for  you,  when 
it  finally  comes,  and  live  on  with  you  as  an 
amiable  hypocrite,  but  I  could  never  do  it  after 
loving  you  as  I  do  now.  I  should  prefer  to 
confess  my  shame,  and  go  off  and  live  alone ; 
I  could  never  live  a  half-way  life  after  living 
as  happily  as  we  have  lived,  —  I  should  prefer 
absolute  misery. 

"  I  think  I  talk  so  much  about  my  tiring 
of  you  finally  as  a  means  of  warding  off  your 


86  A   MAN  STORY, 

hatred  when  our  humiliation  comes ;  when  you 
remember  that  I  always  said  I  would,  you  will 
think  less  horribly  of  me  than  you  would  if 
I  had  taken  tbe  most  solemn  vow  to  love  you 
forever,  for  nothing  displeases  a  man  or  woman 
so  much  as  to  detect  another  in  a  misrep 
resentation  ;  we  have  excuses  in  plenty  for 
ourselves,  but  little  charity  for  others.  Men 
make  moral  laws  for  the  government  of  others 
from  their  ideals,  but  they  are  not  themselves 
the  good  men  they  expect  others  to  be.  Had 
I  never  known  old  Barnaby,  I  should  declare 
in  the  most  solemn  manner  that  I  shall  love 
you  as  I  love  you  now  forever,  but,  unfortu 
nately,  I  know  old  Barnaby,  and  am  subdued." 
"I  have  never  for  a  moment  doubted  that 
you  will  always  be  fond  of  me,"  Mrs.  Tom  said. 
"All  that  you  have  ever  said  of  the  proba 
bility  that  you  will  tire  of  me  only  convinces 
me  that  you  never  will.  I  think  that  at  some 
time  in  your  life  some  one  must  have  accused 
you  a  great  deal  of  being  fickle,  but  I  am 
certain  that  it  was  an  unjust  accusation." 


MORE  OF  THE  LOVE  STORY.       87 

There  was  something  in  the  remark  that  set 
Uncle  Tom  to  thinking,  for  he  was  silent  a 
long  time. 

"I  never  knew  any  one,  except  you,  who  did 
not  accuse  me  of  it,"  he  finally  said.  "My 
mother  in  particular  accused  me  of  it.  'Your 
love,'  she  used  to  say  to  me,  4  reminds  me  of 
an  appetite.  A  friend  invites  you  to  dine ; 
you  say  his  pudding  is  the  best  you  ever 
tasted,  and  you  believe  it.  Another  friend  in 
vites  you  to  dinner,  and  you  forget  all  about 
the  other  pudding,  though  it  was  a  good  one, 
and  say  you  never  tasted  anything  so  delicious 
as  the  latest  mess  placed  before  you.  Your  wife 
will  be  a  very  wretched  woman.'  I  know  better 
than  to  be  in  love,  realizing  how  fickle  I  am, 
consequently  I  blush  when  I  realize  that  there 
never  was  a  school-boy  as  madly  in  love  as  I  am." 

It  occurred  to  him  that  he  had  not  declared 
himself  for  awhile,  so  he  vigorously  nodded  his 
head,  and  then  shook  it,  which  amused  Mrs. 
Tom,  and  caused  her  to  declare  that  he  was 
the  best  and  dearest  fellow  in  the  world. 


88  A   MAN  STORY. 

"  I  wish  you  and  I  had  no  better  sense  than 
to  imagine  that  we  were  created  for  each 
other,  and  that  nothing  would  happen  to  dis 
turb  the  belief;  but  had  I  not  appeared  when 
I  did,  you  would  have  married  some  other 
man,  and  been  shocked  at  the  suggestion  that 
you  could  have  loved  me.  Imagine  that  the 
other  man  (a  foolish  fellow,  as  I  am,  and 
jealous  of  what  might  have  happened)  had 
appeared  first  and  become  your  husband,  and 
I  had  appeared  in  town  on  a  hunting  expedi 
tion,  and  the  other  man  should  have  pointed  me 
out,  and  said,  'You  might  have  married  him.' 
What  would  you  have  done  ?  You  would  have 
gone  off  and  cried,  and  thought  me  horrid.  What 
a  ridiculous  world  it  is;  do  you  know,  I  have 
a  pang  of  jealousy  thinking  of  you  crying  be 
cause  it  was  said  you  might  have  loved  me  ? 
You  will  say  yourself  that  this  is  silly,  but  it 
is  not  more  silly  than  the  fact  that  we  make 
so  serious  a  matter  of  that  which  might  not 
have  happened  at  all,  and  which  will  probably 
not  exist  at  all  after  a  time. 


MORE   OF  THE  LOVE  STORY.  89 

"We  ought  to  be  wiser  than  we  are;  this 
habit  we  have  of  making  much  of  love  will 
cause  us  a  great  deal  of  humiliation.  When  I 
have  forgotten  you,  and  I  say  to  the  second 
Mrs.  Tom,  4  Never  was  any  one  as  necessary  to 
a  man  as  you  are  to  me '  (I  am  thinking  that 
of  you  this  moment),  I  shall  remember  you, 
and  blush  to  such  an  extent  that  the  second 
Mrs.  Tom  will  suspect  the  cause,  and  abuse 
me  as  I  deserve. 

"Either  you  are  a  very  cunning  woman,  or 
you  have  accidentally  hit  upon  the  only  plan 
by  which  I  can  be  managed.  I  think  it  is 
your  natural  way,  though  it  may  be  policy, 
but  you  treat  me  so  well  that  I  am  ashamed 
not  to  treat  you  in  the  same  fashion.  What 
ever  I  want  to  do,  you  want  me  to  do,  and 
the  result  is  I  try  to  repay  your  goodness  by 
trying  to  think  what  will  be  most  agreeable 
to  you.  But  if  you  should  stand  out  a  great 
deal  for  your  rights,  —  Mrs.  Barnaby  has  a 
great  many  rights,  and  it  keeps  her  busy  pro 
tecting  them, — you  would  find  me  the  meanest 


90  A   MAN  STORY. 

man  alive.  I  have  often  said  to  you  that  I 
am  like  the  other  men  in  the  respect  that  I 
shall  tire  of  a  love  affair ;  it  is  no  more  than 
fair  that  I  should  admit  that  I  am  also  like 
them  in  having  a  disposition  to  quarrel  after 
I  have  tired  of  my  wife,  and  be  meaner  to 
a  woman  than  I  would  dare  to  be  to  a  man. 
"It  is  a  pity  that  other  women  do  not 
adopt  your  idea,  for  it  is  a  good  one ;  men 
can  be  managed  in  that  way  better  than  in 
any  other.  Other  women,  no  doubt,  have 
contempt  for  you  because  of  the  manner  in 
which  you  worship  me ;  but  you  are  wiser  than 
they  are ;  your  worship  is  responsible  for 
all  the  good  there  is  in  me.  If  you  really 
meant  it  when  you  said  I  had  made  you 
happy,  you  are  entitled  to  the  credit,  for  I 
would  have  been  like  the  rest  of  them  had 
you  bothered  much  about  your  rights.  There 
are  men  enough  to  do  the  mean  things ;  I 
think  the  women  should  be  trusting  and  gentle. 
Surely  you  can't  really  think  it  of  me ;  but 
you  say  you  believe  I  am  fair  with  you,  and 


MORE  OF  THE  LOVE  STORY.  91 

that  is  the  reason  I  try  to  be.  If  we  should 
meet  a  lion  in  the  road,  you  would  believe 
me  brave  and  strong  enough  to  vanquish  him, 
and  though  the  sight  of  a  lion  would  really 
frighten  me,  your  confidence  would  cause  me 
to  fight  him  with  more  skill  and  bravery  than 
would  have  been  possible  did  I  feel  that  you 
believed  I  would  run  away  and  leave  you. 
In  case  old  Barnaby  should  go  out  walking 
with  Mrs.  Barnaby — which  is  extremely  improb 
able  ;  indeed,  I  laugh  at  the  thought  —  and 
they  should  meet  a  lion  in  the  road,  Mrs.  Bar 
naby  would  at  once  accuse  old  Barnaby  of 
being  a  coward,  and  run  for  her  life." 

Uncle  Tom  dozed  off  to  sleep  soon  after,  as 
though  he  gave  himself  up  completely  to  en 
joyment  of  his  love  affair,  and  talked  of  what 
might  happen  to  prepare  himself  for  something 
disagreeable  a  long  way  off ;  and  the  manner 
in  which  Mrs.  Tom  hovered  over  him  con 
vinced  me  that  in  her  heart  she  did  not  doubt 
that  her  husband  would  always  be  as  fond  of 
her  as  he  was  then. 


92  A   MAN  STORY. 

The  Footits  came  to  town  during  the  day, 
Mrs.  Footit  walking  ahead  in  state,  smoking  a 
pipe,  followed  by  Footit,  who  carried  the  baby. 
Mrs.  Footit  came  into  the  room  where  we 
were  inquiring  for  the  Boomer,  but  as  he  was 
not  at  home,  she  went  away,  after  declaring 
that  no  Boomer  on  earth  could  swindle  her 
through  a  weak  husband. 

Later  in  the  day  she  called  again,  still  look 
ing  for  the  Boomer,  and  then  it  was  that  we 
made  the  discovery  that  Bud  had  disappeared 
the  night  before.  I  believed  he  had  gone 
away  to  become  a  pugilist,  and  I  could  not 
help  remembering  the  gentle  manner  in  which 
he  sat  beside  his  gentle  father  the  night  before, 
as  though  he  thought  more  of  him  than  he 
did  of  his  mother,  and  was  bidding  him  good- 


JOE    TACK.  93 


CHAPTER    VIII. 

JOE  TACK. 

THE  man  whom  my  father  seemed  to  ad 
mire  above  all  others*  was  a  certain  Joe  Tack, 
who  was  often  at  our  house,  and  who 
promptly  accepted  everything  he  heard  there, 
for  he  was  a  Boomer,  too,  and  if  my  father 
had  anything  particularly  desirable  to  offer  in 
the  way  of  a  block  of  bonds  or  town  lots, 
Joe  Tack  promptly  took  all  he  could  get,  and 
believed  that  his  connection  with  our  family 
was  of  great  advantage.  My  father  was  always 
attempting  to  float  something  new  by  means 
of  bonds,  and  these  bonds  were  bought  in 
great  quantity  by  Mr.  Tack,  and  he  never 
objected  to  the  price. 

I  don't  think  he  paid  very  promptly,  but  I 
am  certain  that  he  never  quibbled  over  the 
prices  of  my  father's  bonds  or  town  lots,  and 


94  A  MAN  STORY. 

that  he  bought  them  as  long  as  they  were  in 
the  market.  I  have  no  doubt  he  would  have 
paid  had  he  been  possessed  of  the  means,  for 
he  was  an  honest  fellow,  though  somewhat  un 
fortunate  in  his  business  affairs. 

Joe  Tack  believed  there  was  money  in  a 
saw-mill,  and  although  he  had  been  unfortu 
nate  in  the  particular  trlat  his  mills  blew  up 
before  he  had  them  on  a  paying  basis,  he 
fully  expected  that  in  time  he  would  be  able 
to  find  a  sound  boiler,  and  secure  the  means 
of  paying  for  the  lots  and  bonds  he  had 
purchased.  One  of  the  delights  of  Fog  Lake 
boys  was  the  regular  excursion  into  the  woods 
to  see  the  remains  of  Joe  Tack's  saw-mill ; 
the  first  time  I  ever  saw  him,  I  believe,  he 
was  being  carried  along  the  streets  on  one  of 
his  own  boards,  and  when  I  went  out  to  see 
him,  I  felt  certain  he  had  boiled  himself  for 
the  last  time,  he  looked  so  dreadfully  bad ; 
but  he  soon  opened  his  eyes  and  said  it  was 
not  the  fault  of  the  business,  but  of  the  boiler, 
and  that  everything  would  yet  be  all  right. 


JOE    TACK.  95 

I  also  thought  he  looked  admiringly  at  the 
large  crowd  following  him,  and  that  his  popu 
larity  in  the  neighborhood  pleased  him  ;  and 
when  his  wife  appeared,  and  gave  vent  to 
her  grief  in  the  most  dreadful  way,  there  was 
such  a  call  for  handkerchiefs  that  I  thought 
the  Boomer  should  order  a  new  supply  for 
the  store,  for  Joe  was  always  being  blown  up, 
and  from  long  practice  his  wife  was  steadily 
becoming  more  touching  in  her  grief. 

When  next  we  heard  of  him  he  was  hard 
at  work  on  a  new  mill,  and  although  this 
blew  up  within  a  few  months  after  it  was 
started,  Joe  was  off  with  my  father  on  a 
booming  expedition,  and  escaped. 

Joe  was  large  and  good-natured,  and  firmly 
believed  in  all  the  Boomer's  schemes,  and 
probably  made  a  good  impression  at  the  public 
meetings  he  attended,  for  he  was  quite  dis 
tinguished  looking,  arid  I  think  the  Boomer 
courted  him  because  his  good  nature  and  satis 
fied  way  convinced  the  people  that  his  in 
vestments  in  bonds  and  town  lots  and  schemes 


96  A    MAN  STORY. 

of  every  kind  were  profitable.  He  owned 
bonds  in  the  corset  factory,  the  watch  fac 
tory,  and  the  violin  factory,  and  as  these  in 
stitutions  had  no  other  existence  than  a  square 
in  the  printed  map  of  the  three  additions  to 
Fog  Lake,  the  Boomer  was  naturally  pleased 
to  find  a  man  who  had  invested  in  his 
schemes,  and  was  free  to  say  that  he  was 
well  pleased. 

Joe  Tack's  wife  was  the  ugliest  woman  I  have 
ever  seen  in  my  life,  but  Joe  did  not  seem  to 
know  it ;  anyway,  his  devotion  to  her  was  every 
where  talked  of,  and  it  was  one  of  his  boasts 
that  while  he  could  not  run  a  saw-mill  suc 
cessfully,  he  was  about  the  best  husband  on 
earth.  Knowing  from  experience  how  danger 
ous  they  were,  Joe  would  not  permit  his  wife 
to  go  near  the  saw-mills,  so  she  was  often  at 
our  house  while  her  husband  was  repairing  his 
boiler  after  an  accident,  and  though  she  was 
in  every  one's  way,  and  was  so  silly  that  we 
could  not  admire  her  (although  she  was  a 
good  and  a  willing  soul),  we  knew  them  both 


JOE    TACK.  97 

very  well,  and  patiently  submitted  to  Mrs. 
Tack,  because  we  all  admired  her  husband. 
When  not  suffering  from  scalds  and  bruises, 
Joe  Tack  was  a  cheerful  fellow,  because  of 
his  confidence  that  he  had  at  last  remedied 
every  difficulty  in  the  boiler  way,  and  it  may 
have  been  that  we  originally  regarded  him  as 
valuable  in  a  business  way,  for  while  we 
knew  he  was  always  buying  the  family  bonds 
and  lots,  we  did  not  know  for  some  years 
that  he  was  unable  to  pay  for  them. 

We  discovered  one  evening  why  Joe  was  so 
fond  of  his  wife.  Mrs.  Tack  had  been  at  our 
house  several  days,  talking  of  seeing  Joe  on 
Saturday,  and  showing  a  bad  set  of  false 
teeth  when  she  smiled  at  the  prospect,  and 
although  we  did  not  expect  him  at  all,  he 
really  came  Saturday  night,  having  been  unable 
to  get  his  boiler  ready  to  fire  up,  which 
probably  saved  him. 

It  was  a  rainy  night,  I  remember,  for  it 
was  said  that  my  father  would  probably  not 
be  able  to  return  on  that  .account  from  an 


98  A  MAN  STORY. 

adjoining  county,  where  he  had  gone  to  stir 
the  people  to  action  regarding  another  railroad; 
so  it  happened  that  there  were  no  schemes  to 
talk  about,  and  after  Joe  had  admired  his 
wife  as  much  as  he  wanted,  and  been 
reproached  for  neglect  of  her,  he  had  time  to 
talk  of  himself.  He  was  always  bringing  his 
wife  something,  and  this  time  it  was  a  gold 
watch.  It  did  not  seem  to  be  much  of  a 
watch,  for  it  wouldn't  run,  and  I  imagined 
from  its  battered  condition  that  he  had  traded 
for  it  somewhere.  The  watch  brought  about  the 
conversation  which  gave  me  my  ideas  as  to  why 
he  was  such  an  admirable  husband,  for  while  he 
held  it  in  his  hand,  he  said,  addressing  his  wife : 

"I've   seen   her   again." 

I  did  not  know  what  he  meant,  but  his 
wife  seemed  to  understand,  for  she  became 
interested  at  once,  and  wanted  to  know  where. 

"  Over  at  the  mill,"  Joe  replied.  "  There  is 
a  slab  shanty  there  where  I  sleep,  and  some 
time  during  '  Thursday  night  I  was  awakened 
by  a  strange  oppression  in  my  breathing. 


JO E    TACK.  99 

When  I  sat  up  in  bed,  there  was  a  strange  light 
in  the  room,  and  there  she  was  —  my  first 
wife,  and  what  do  you  suppose  she  was  doing  ?  " 

None  of  us  knew,  of  course,  but  we  all 
looked  as  curious  as  possible,  and  Joe  told  us. 

"She  had  this  watch  in  her  hand,  and  was 
crying  over  it  as  though  she  was  sorry  I 
hadn't  given  her  one  when  she  was  alive. 
Sarah  has  been  dead  ten  years,  but  she  can't 
get  over  the  way  I  treated  her,  it  seems,  for 
she  frequently  comes  back  to  complain.  I'll 
get  a  letter  to-morrow.  Whenever  I  say  any 
thing  fond  to  the  present  Mrs.  Tack,  the 
ghost  of  the  one  that's  buried  reminds  me  by 
letter  that  I  didn't  treat  her  that  way.  Last 
Tuesday  I  wrote  a  letter  to  my  wife  in 
which  I  said  that  it  did  me  good  even  to 
think  about  her,  and  within  an  hour  after  I 
had  started  it  to  town  in  care  of  a  log- 
hauler,  a  stranger  rode  up  and  said  he  had 
been  requested  by  a  woman  he  met  on  the 
road  to  deliver  a  letter  to  Joe  Tack.  When  I  ac 
knowledged  that  to  be  my  name,  he  gave  me 


100  A   MAN  STORY. 

the  letter  and  rode  on.  It  was  from  Sarah, — 
no  postmark,  no  stamp,  but  her  writing  with 
out  a  doubt.  It  said,  '  Had  you  been  as  fond 
of  me '  —  but  wait ;  I'll  get  the  letter  itself." 

After  a  search  he  produced  from  his  pocket 
a  letter,  evidently  written  on  prize-package 
stationery,  and  read  :  — 

"Had  you  been  as  fond  of  me,  we  might 
have  lived  very  happily." 

He  threw  the  letter  on  the  table  after  read 
ing  it,  and  said  we  might  look  at  it,  which 
we  did,  but  could  make  out  nothing  save  that 
it  was  written  with  purple  ink,  and  apparently 
by  a  woman.  While  the  letter  was  passing 
from  hand  to  hand,  Joe  shook  the  watch,  and, 
after  holding  it  to  his  ear,  said  that  he  be 
lieved  it  would  run  had  he  not  neglected  to 
get  a  key  with  which  to  wind  it. 

Number  Two  looked  at  the  watch,  and  ex 
amined  it  critically,  but  Number  One  was  as 
dignified  as  usual,  and  paid  no  attention  either 
to  the  watch  or  the  conversation.  My  mother 
and  Mrs.  Tom  were  busy  with  some  sort  of 


JOE    TACK.        i       iv  \  V 

work,  and  paid  so  little  attention ^tkat- 1 
thought  since  that  they  must  have  heard  all 
about  Sarah  before.  Uncle  Tom  was  up  in  his 
room  doing  some  sort  of  writing,  which  ex 
plained  why  Mrs.  Tom  and  I  were  not  with 
him ;  neither  of  us  ever  left  him  except  when 
it  was  necessary.  I  could  not  sleep  well  at 
night  when  he  was  at  home,  from  thinking 
how  much  better  time  I  would  have  with  him 
than  I  could  possibly  have  in  sleeping. 

Mrs.  Tack  did  not  seem  to  mind  the  refer 
ences  that  had  been  made  to  her  husband's 
first  wife,  from  which  I  thought  the  subject 
was  often  talked  of  between  them,  and  she 
explained  to  us  without  any  show  of  feeling 
that  there  was  no  sense  in  the  way  Sarah 
carried  on,  as  Joe  had  always  treated  her  well. 
Joe  had  never  given  her  a  cross  word,  she 
said,  arid  she  might  let  him  alone. 

"I  wish  you  could  say  I  had  never  neg 
lected  her,"  Mr.  Tack  interrupted.  "That's 
where  I  was  to  blame ;  I  neglected  her.  I 
was  young  then,  and  didn't  know  how  much 


102  A   MAN  STORY. 

Women  make -of  little  attentions;  so  I  thought 
lessly  neglected  her.  If  I  came  home  and  found 
her  crying,  I  thought  maybe  she  had  heard 
bad  word  from  her  folks,  and  said  nothing; 
but  I  know  now  she  was  crying  because  I 
neglected  her.  It's  a  man's  duty  to  make  his 
wife  happy,  and  when  you  find  a  woman  who 
is  unhappy,  you  will  find  a  man  who  neglects 
to  do  his  duty.  It  all  rests  with  the  man. 
I  know  men  who  are  wasting  their  lives  in 
quarrelling  with  their  mates ;  they  could  with 
less  difficulty  make  themselves  reputations  and 
happy  homes.  In  other  ways  men  have  strong 
competition,  and  the  making  of  a  reputation 
is  difficult,  but  in  being  good  to  his  wife,  it's 
like  having  the  only  post-office  in  the  town, 
and  getting  your  stamps  for  nothing;  there  is 
practically  no  competition." 

Had  I  been  older,  the  thought  would,  no 
doubt,  have  occurred  to  me  that  Joe  Tack  was 
making  game  of  his  wife,  for  I  could  not  un 
derstand  how  any  one  could  be  fond  of  a 
woman  so  hideously  ugly  and  hopelessly  silly; 


JOE    TACK.  103 

but  as  Mrs.  Tack  had  no  such  suspicion,  and 
seemed  to  enjoy  it,  I  thought  it  was  only  one 
of  his  ways  of  amusing  himself  after  his  con 
tests  with  the  boilers,  and  as  he  stood  by  the 
mantel  rubbing  some  sort  of  salve  on  his 
hammer  sores,  I  thought  that  while  he  was 
very  much  mistaken  in  regarding  his  wife  as 
a  rare  woman,  except  as  to  hideousness,  he 
certainly  was  in  earnest. 

"  Who  is  the  most  noted  man  in  this  coun 
try?"  Joe  said  again,  after  stroking  his  wife's 
cheek,  and  predicting  that  he  would  get  a 
letter  for  it.  "  You  all  know  that  I  am,  and 
that  I  have  no  greater  recommendation  than 
that  I  am  good  to  my  wife.  I  know  as  little 
as  the  law  allows,  but  for  doing  my  duty  I 
am  a  noted  man.  Mrs.  Tack  is  occasionally 
unreasonable,  but  always  in  a  pretty  way;  but 
no  matter;  I  am  better  than  ever  to  her  be 
cause  of  it,  and  it  only  adds  to  my  reputa 
tion.  I'll  be  in  the  legislature  before  I  die, 
you  see  if  I  don't;  and  it  will  not  be  because 
I  am  a  statesman,  either,  —  it  will  be  because 


104  A  MAN  STORY. 

of  the  circumstance  that  I  am  good  to  my 
wife.  I  would  have  been  there  now  had  I 
commenced  on  Sarah.  The  men  like  me  for 
it,  as  well  as  the  women,  for  every  man's 
theories  are  all  right,  and  when  I  was  last 
carried  home,  I  was  moved  to  tears  by  the 
length  of  the  procession.  Father  was  mean  to 
mother,  and  I  neglected  Sarah,  but  I  am  on 
the  right  track  now,  and  I'll  stay  there,  no 
matter  how  many  letters  I  get." 

There  was  a  sudden  knocking  at  the  front 
door,  and  when  I  opened  it,  a  strange  boy 
handed  in  a  letter  for  Joe  and  disappeared. 
It  was  written  on  the  same  prize-package  sta 
tionery,  and  addressed  in  purple  ink,  and  I 
was  not  surprised  to  learn,  as  I  did  soon  after, 
that  it  was  from  the  first  Mrs.  Tack.  Joe  read 
it  over  himself,  with  a  crestfallen  countenance, 
and  then  read  it  aloud :  — 

"  JOE,  — •  I  was  better-looking  than  your  pres 
ent  wife,  and  you  must  know  it,  yet  you  are 
kinder  to  her  than  you  ever  were  to  me. 

"  SAKAH." 


JOE    TACK.  105 

The  reading  of  the  letter  threw  Mrs.  Tack 
into  a  great  state  of  indignation,  during  which 
she  said  that  it  was  clear  that  Sarah  was  no 
better-mannered  as  a  spirit  than  she  was  when 
alive;  but  Joe  pacified  her  by  patting  the  warts 
and  whiskers  on  her  cheek. 

"I  should  not  have  read  the  letter,"  he  said. 
"  I  shall  keep  them  to  myself  in  future.  Who 
wants  to  go  out  to  the  graveyard  ? " 

There  was  a  profound  silence,  which  Joe 
Tack  observed,  and  then  explained  that  he  was 
going  out  to  see  if  Sarah's  grave  had  been 
disturbed,  for  while  he  had  received  many  let 
ters  from  Sarah,  personal  visits  were  uncom 
mon;  therefore  the  house  was  ransacked  for 
umbrellas,  and  when  I  came  back  into  the 
room  after  an  excursion  into  the  garret  with 
Joe,  I  found  Mrs.  Tack  ready  to  go  out. 
This  aroused  my  interest  to  such  an  extent 
that  I  resolved  to  accompany  them,  and  we 
soon  after  stepped  out  into  the  mud  and  rain. 

There  was  a  church  in  Fog  Lake,  which 
caused  the  women  a  great  amount  of  trouble 


106  A   MAN  STORY. 

to  support,  but  which  the  men  never  seemed 
to  worry  about,  and  back  of  this  was  the 
graveyard,  although  my  father  had  laid  out  a 
cemetery  further  away,  and  declared  that  the 
people  should  buy  lots  and  improve  them, 
neither  of  which  they  did.  Toward  the  church 
we  directed  our  steps,  Joe  Tack  talking  all  the 
time  about  Sarah,  and  the  queer  way  she  had 
of  expressing  her  disapprobation  of  his  neglect. 
I  had  an  idea  we  should  find  Sarah  sitting  on 
the  grave,  crying  because  of  the  fear  that  Joe 
would  erect  a  monument  when  next  he  buried 
a  wife,  but  we  did  not ;  we  found  nothing  at 
all  except  the  grave,  which  was  in  an  out-of- 
the-way  corner,  and  badly  neglected.  Joe 
lighted  matches  under  his  hat  and  looked  for 
evidences  of  fresh  dirt,  but  found  none ;  so 
we  returned  home,  where  we  found  that  Uncle 
Tom  had  come  downstairs  and  was  preparing 
to  tell  a  story.  After  we  had  reported  that 
there  was  no  evidence  that  Sarah's  grave 
had  been  disturbed,  and  seated  ourselves,  ho 
began :  — 


MR.  CANBY  AND   MR.   OTHER.  107 


CHAPTER    IX. 

THE    STRANGE     STORY    OF    MR.    CANBY    AND 
MR.    OTHER. 

I  ONCE  had  an  intimate  friend  in  a  certain 
Mr.  Canby;  a  sentimental  sort  of  a  fellow, 
who  had  no  great  fault '  further  than  that  he 
was  in  love  with  his  wife.  Being  a  matter- 
of-fact  man  myself,  as  you  all  know,  and  not 
given  to  the  sentimental  follies,  I  often  warned 
him  of  his  fault,  and  begged  him  to  reform, 
but  he  said  he  imagined  nothing  serious 
would  come  of  it,  and  went  along  in  his  old 
way. 

I  knew  Mrs.  Canby  quite  well,  also,  and 
was  frequently  at  her  home,  and  I  sometimes 
thought  that  if  ever  a  man  had  excuse  for 
his  folly,  Canby  was  the  man,  for  his  lady 
was  a  most  agreeable  person  and  devotedly 
attached  to  him,  besides  being  an  admirable 


108  A   MAN  STORY. 

woman  in  every  way.  But  I  did  not  forget 
my  duty  to  my  friend,  and  repeated  my 
warning  of  the  danger  he  was  running.  He 
laughed  at  my  fears,  in  his  good-natured  way, 
and  said  what  I  called  his  folly  was  really 
his  joy,  and  that  his  infatuation  was  of  the 
greatest  benefit  to  him;  but  Canby  would  not 
be  warned,  and  I  finally  hoped  that  he  was 
one  of  those  sentimental  fellows  who  would 
do  himself  no  great  harm  if  no  great  good. 
But  the  storm  came  in  spite  of  my  hopes. 
He  had  suddenly  ceased  his  visits  to  me,  but 
as  I  imagined  he  was  safe  at  home,  more 
ridiculously  in  love  than  ever,  but  doing  no 
harm,  I  did  not  look  him  up,  though  I  often 
laughed  to  myself  to  think  of  how  Canby, 
once  a  bright  man,  was  carrying  on.  There 
fore  I  was  particularly  shocked  when  he 
called  on  me  one  night  and  said  he  had  a 
rival,  and  that  he  could  never  be  happy 
again.  This  announcement  shocked  me  beyond 
expression,  for  I  had  regarded  Mrs.  Canby  as 
a  model  woman  in  all  respects. 


MR.   CANBY  AXD  MR.   OTHER.  109 

"  My  dear  fellow,"  I  said  to  him,  "  you 
certainly  are  not  serious  when  you  tell  me 
that  Mrs.  Canby  has  been  trifling  with  you?" 

Oh,  no,  it  wasn't  that,  he  explained,  but 
he  had  grown  to  think  so  much  of  his  wife 
that  he  had  created  a  phantom  with  which 
to  torture  himself.  The  more  he  knew  of 
Mrs.  Canby,  my  unfortunate  friend  said,  the 
better  he  liked  her,  and  as  she  gradually 
became  so  necessary  to  him  that  he  could 
not  think  of  doing  without  her,  he  began  to 
think  of  how  wretched  he  would  have  been 
had  he  not  found  her  at  all.  Then  he 
thought  of  his  great  loss  in  case  he  should 
die,  and  next  he  thought  of  his  Phantom. 

The  Phantom  was  a  certain  Mr.  Other, 
who  would  appear  after  his  death  and  marry 
his  widow.  That,  Canby  said,  was  horror 
enough,  but  it  was  not  the  worst;  he  had  a 
fear  that  his  wife  would  gradually  forget  him, 
and  love  Mr.  Other  more  than  she  had  ever 
loved  her  first  husband. 

Of   course   I   was   distressed  over  my   friend's 


110  A   MAN  STORY. 

misfortune,  but  I  could  not  help  reminding 
him  of  my  early  warning :  that  his  being  in 
love  with  his  wife  would  prove  his  ruin. 
He  had  at  first  imagined  that  being  in 
love  with  his  wife  was  a  credit  to  him,  and 
had  enjoyed  it  immensely  for  awhile,  and  ac 
cused  me  of  being  crusty  because  of  my 
warning,  but  finally  the  blow  came,  and  he 
was  wrecked. 

The  certainty  that  he  might  not  have  met 
his  wife  at  all,  and  that  she  might  have 
loved  another  as  ardently  as.  she  loved  him, 
came  into  his  mind,  and  his  ruin  was  com 
pleted  by  the  possibility  that  she  might  be 
come  a  widow,  and  deny  to  a  second  husband 
that  she  had  ever  loved  Canby  at  all. 

But  his  sorrow  was  so  sincere  that  I  soon 
ceased  to  taunt  him,  and  tried  to  show  him 
the  absurdity  of  his  latest  folly ;  but  he  would 
not  be  argued  out  of  it ;  he  loved  his  wife 
so  much  that  the  thought  that  she  would 
ever  marry  again,  in  the  event  of  his  death, 
crazed  him,  and  he  was  now  certain  that  he 


MR.  CANBY    AND   MR.   OTHER.  Ill 

would  die  soon,  and  give  his  place  to  a  fel 
low  of  no  merit  named  Mr.  Other. 

His  case  was  worse  than  I  deemed  possible, 
I  discovered  after  hearing  more  of  it.  Canby 
had  taken  to  dreaming  of  Mr.  Other,  and 
saw  him  so  often  that  he  was  able  to 
describe  him  quite  accurately. 

In  his  dreams  he  saw  Mr.  Other  living  with 
Mrs.  Canby,  and  heard  their  conversations.  It 
was  all  so  ridiculous  that  I  could  not  keep 
from  laughing,  much  as  I  respected  my  friend's 
feelings,  for  he  repeated  conversations  he  had 
heard  in  his  sleep  between  Mr.  Other  and  his 
widow. 

"  Dear  Mr.  Other "  (one  of  the  conversa 
tions  was  to  this  effect),  "what  a  Hank  my 
life  was  before  I  met  you !  You  are  so  good 
to  me." 

This  caused  Mr.  Other  (Canby  said)  to  say 
he  supposed  she  had  said  the  same  thing  to 
her  first  husband,  from  which  I  imagined  Mr. 
Other  to  be  a  ridiculous  fellow,  too;  but  Mrs. 
Canby  declared  (so  the  dream  went)  that  while 


112  A   MAN  STORY. 

she  had  respected  Mr.  Canby,  she  had  married 
him  to  please  her  folks,  and  had  really  never 
loved  before. 

Of  course  I  knew  this  to  be  absurd,  and 
so  did  Canby,  for  he  .ran  away  with  his  wife, 
because  her  folks  objected,  and  never  was  a 
woman  more  completely  infatuated  with  a  man 
than  was  Mrs.  Canby  with  my  friend. 

But  nothing  would  comfort  Canby ;  at  least, 
nothing  I  could  say,  though  he  made  strange 
hints  concerning  the  comfort  of  the  dead. 
Everything  his  wife  did,  he  said,  only  angered 
him  since  his  dreaming  commenced,  for  it  only 
reminded  him  that  the  love  which  had  once 
been  so  precious  to  him  was  only  a  prejudice 
to  be  forgotten  in  a  year.  His  wife  had  said 
things  to  him  which  had  caused  him  to  feel 
that  he  was,  perhaps,  nobler  than  other  men, 
and  better;  but  he  now  knew  that  he  was 
not,  and  that  he  would  be  as  utterly  forgot 
ten  as  though  he  had  never  lived.  He  was, 
therefore,  ready  to  die  and  forget  his  disgrace. 

Another   part   of  his   idea   was  that   his   pun- 


MR.   CANBY  AND  MR.   OTHER.  113 

ishment  after  death  would  be  to  constantly 
attend  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Other,  as  an  invisible, 
silent,  and  unhappy  spirit:  he  would  never  be 
allowed  to  sleep,  but  compelled  to  attend  his 
wife  night  and  day,  to  be  punished  by  her 
declarations  that  she  never  really  loved  Canby, 
and  in  witnessing  her  evidences  of  affection 
for  Mr.  Other. 

It  was  quite  horrible,  the  way  he  pictured 
his  punishment  for  having  been  in  love  with 
his  wife;  but  I  feared  I  could  do  nothing  for 
him,  his  case  seemed  utterly  hopeless. 

I  went  home  with  him  at  his  request,  and 
Mrs.  Canby  was  as  pretty  as  ever,  though 
greatly  distressed  over  her  husband's  gloomy 
demeanor.  Nothing  was  the  matter,  he  said,  in 
answer  to  her  anxious  questions;  oh,  no,  noth 
ing  at  all;  and  when  she  brought  his  slippers, 
he  looked  at  them  with  horror,  as  though  he 
already  saw  Mr.  Other's  feet  coming  that  way, 
and  refused  to  put  them  on.  She  paid  him 
great  attention  while  I  was  there,  but  he  did 
not  recover  his  spirits ;  indeed,  he  grew  steadily 


114  A    MAN  STORY. 

worse,  and  within  a  month  killed  himself,  leav 
ing  a  note  denying  that  suicides  are  ever  in 
sane,  and  declaring  that  men  who  kill  them 
selves  are  really  the  philosophers,  since  every 
man  is  better  off  when  he  is  dead. 

The  letter  left  by  Canby  was  quite  a  re 
markable  document.  "  There  are  no  wise  men 
living,"  it  said;  "as  soon  as  a  man  becomes 
wise,  and  realizes  what  he  is  living  for,  he 
kills  himself.  I  only  hope  that  the  newspapers 
will  not  say  that  I  killed  myself  while  tem 
porarily  insane;  should  they  say  that  I  took 
my  life  while  suffering  from  a  temporary  fit 
of  wisdom,  they  would  be  nearer  the  truth." 

Mrs.  Canby's  grief  over  the  death  of  her 
husband  was  awful  to  see,  and  it  was  feared 
that  she  would  become  insane.  They  watched 
with  her  a  long  time,  but  finally  it  was 
deemed  safe  to  leave  her  alone,  and  within  a 
few  months  she  was  able  to  walk  about.  I 
occasionally  met  her,  but,  of  course,  said  noth 
ing  with  reference  to  her  late  husband's  malady, 
though  I  thought  to  myself  that  if  poor  Canby 


MR.   CAN  BY  AND  MR.  OTHER.  115 

could  have  heard  in  his  dreams  what  she  said 
to  me  concerning  him,  he  would  not  have 
killed  himself,  for  a  more  loyal  widow  or  a 
more  distressed  widow  never  lived.  Only  one 
course  remained  to  her,  she  said:  to  join  poor 
Canby  as  soon  as  possible  on  the  Other  Side, 
and  I  felt  so  much  sympathy  for  her  that  I 
sometimes  mentioned,  when  I  thought  she  could 
bear  it,  how  much  her  husband  had  thought 
of  her. 

About  two  years  later  a  young  gentleman 
came  to  town  who  created  quite  a  stir  in 
society.  I  did  not  hear  of  him  until  he  had 
been  there  some  months,  for  I  am  not  given 
to  things  of  that  sort,  but  finally  I  heard  so 
much  of  him,  in  spite  of  myself,  that  I  in 
quired  his  name. 

His  name  was  Mr.  Other,  they  told  me, 
and  I  took  an  interest  in  him  at  once,  though 
his  connection  with  Canby's  dream  was  prob 
ably  only  a  coincidence,  for  I  found  out  by 
means  of  cautious  inquiries  that  he  knew  Mrs. 
Canby  only  slightly. 


116  A  MAN  STORY. 

\ 

I  looked  him  up,  however,  and  made  his 
acquaintance.  Certainly  a  handsomer  fellow 
than  Canby,  I  thought,  though  not  so  bright, 
but  he  was  evidently  as  foolish,  for  he  seemed 
to  think  a  great  deal  of  love.  In  spite  of 
myself  I  liked  the  young  fellow,  though  I 
expected  that  Canby  would  haunt  me  for  it, 
and  he  talked  to  me  at  times  concerning  his 
love  affairs,  which  seemed  to  be  more  impor 
tant  in  his  mind  than  anything  else.  He  had 
met  the  charming  Mrs.  Canby,  he  said,  and  I 
accepted  the  opportunity  to  do  my  friend 
justice,  which  I  thought  he  listened  to  with 
more  than  passing  interest. 

For  some  reason  he  avoided  me  after  this 
conversation,  and  I  did  not  see  him  again 
until  I  met  him  as  the  husband  of  Mrs. 
Canby.  The  meeting  was  under  exceedingly 
odd  circumstances;  they  had  both  avoided  me 
for  months,  and  I  was,  therefore,  surprised 
when  he  called  on  me  one  evening,  very 
much  as  Canby  had  done  before. 

He  apologized  for  his  visit,  and  explained  the 


MR.   CAN  BY  AND  MR.   OTHER.  117 

object  of  it  at  once ;  he  was  very  much  in 
love  with  his  wife,  and  was  constantly  haunted 
with  the  fear  that  she  had  thought  more  of 
her  first  husband  than  she  thought  of  him ; 
he  knew  I  was  an  old  acquaintance  of  Mr. 
Canb}7's,  and  had  resolved  to  ask  me  the 
question,  though  it  caused  him  much  pain. 

I  felt  it  my  duty,  though  the  circumstances 
were  painful  in  the  extreme,  to  do  justice  to 
my  dead  friend,  so  I  told  Mr.  Other  plainly 
that  his  wife  had  certainly  seemed  fond  of 
her  first  husband,  who  was  an  excellent  man, 
and  my  intimate  friend,  and  I  related,  when 
he  urged  me,  many  things  I  had  heard  her 
say  and  seen  her  do,  as  evidence  that  Mr. 
Caiiby  had  been  highly  esteemed  by  his  wife. 

Mr.  Other  was  in  a  strange  way  at  once, 
declaring  that  he  had  suspected  it  all  the  time, 
and  that  in  future  he  would  think  with 
pleasure  of  nothing  but  the  grave.  It  also 
turned  out  that  everything  loving  I  had  ever 
heard  Mrs.  Canby  say  to  her  first  husband, 
she  had  repeated  to  her  second,  and  while  I 


118  A   MAN  STORY. 

tried  to  comfort  Mr.  Other,  I  knew  it  was 
impossible.  He  raved  a  great  deal  about  his 
love  for  his  wife,  and  how  he  felt  when  he 
realized  that  every  little  attention  shown  him 
had  been  shown  to  another,  and  he  also  said 
that  he  would  have  been  a  perfectly  happy 
man  had  Canby  never  existed.  He  insisted 
upon  my  going  home  with  him,  and  as  we 
walked  along,  he  said  that  although  his  wife 
had  confessed  to  him  that  her  life  had  been 
a  blank  before  they  met,  and  that  she  had 
never  before  known  what  love  was,  he  believed 
she  had  forgotten,  and  that  she  was  passion 
ately  fond  of  a  man  who  had  taken  his  own 
life  because  of  some  discreditable  circumstance 
of  which  no  one  knew  anything. 

I  thought  this  a  very  wise  remark  on  the 
part  of  Mr.  Other,  for  it  is  one  of  the  ab 
surdities  of  love  that  those  under  its  spell 
will  earnestly  deny  their  earnestness  on  previous 
occasions.  While  I  knew  that  Mrs.  Canby 
had  been  thoroughly  in  love  with  her  first 
husband,  I  had  no  doubt  that  she  firmly  be- 


MR.   CAN  BY  AND   MR.   OTHER.  119 

lieved  that  the  love  of  her  life  was  with  Mr. 
Other,  and  that  she  had  been  forced  into  the 
marriage  with  Mr.  Canby,  or  something  of 
that  kind.  There  is  no  sincerity  in  love, 
though  we  all  believe  there  is. 

I  am  sorry  now  that  I  did  not  tell  Mr. 
Other  why  Canby  had  killed  himself,  for 
he  hated  his  memory,  and  sneeringly  repeated 
his  belief  that  Canby  had  suicided  because 
of  some  sort  of  dishonor,  in  spite  of  my 
statement  that  I  knew  better. 

"If  you  knew  differently,"  Mr.  Other  said, 
"you  would  say  so.  I  am  satisfied  that  Can- 
by  was  a  scoundrel,  for  I  have  been  able  to 
hear  little  good  of  him  in  this  neighborhood, 
and  think  of  my  humiliation  when  I  realize 
that  Mrs.  Other  was  once  fond  of  him;  think 
of  my  feelings  when  I  think  of  his  having 
touched  her,  damn  him !  I  really  love  the 
woman,  but  that  fellow  was  an  adventurer." 

His  hatred  for  Canby  was  very  intense,  but 
I  thought  best  to  say  nothing. 

I    am     candidly    of     the     opinion    that    Mrs. 


120  A   MAN  STORY. 

Other  thought  more  of  her  second  husband 
than  of  her  first,  for  when  I  called  upon  her,  in 
company  with  Mr.  Other,  at  an  unusual  hour, 
she  had  no  hesitancy  in  throwing  her  arms 
about  him,  and  inquiring  what  was  the  mat 
ter,  and  why  he  was  acting  so  of  late.  Noth 
ing  was  the  matter,  he  said,  and  the  reply 
reminded  me  of  Canby;  and  when  she  brought 
his  slippers  and  wanted  to  put  them  on  his 
feet,  he  kicked  them  away,  fearing,  no  doubt, 
that  they  were  Canby's,  as  I  believe  they 
were.  But  nothing  was  the  matter;  he  kept 
saying  that  all  the  evening,  in  answer  to  her 
appeals,  and  she  was  certainly  more  distressed 
over  his  strange  behavior  than  she  had  been 
over  Canby's. 

Canby  had  shot  himself ;  Mr.  Other  took 
poison  in  his  wife's  presence,  and  died  in 
frightful  convulsions,  after  declaring  that  he 
committed  suicide  not  because  he  was  insane, 
but  because  he  was  too  wise  a  man  to  live 
and  suffer  as  he  had  been  suffering  for  the 
past  few  months.  During  his  convulsions,  in- 


MR.  CANBY  AND   MR.   OTHER.  121 

deed,  he  roared  out  that  he  felt  better  than 
for  months  past,  but  to  the  last  refused  to 
tell  why  he  had  taken  his  life. 

I  was  one  of  the  pall-bearers  at  both 
funerals,  and  they  were  both  very  distressing. 
In  both  cases  it  was  feared  that  the  dis 
tressed  wife  would  lose  her  reason,  and  she 
was  watched  several  days  for  fear  she  would 
take  her  own  life ;  but  she  never  did,  and 
when  I  last  saw  her  she  was  quite  resigned 
again  in  the  love  of  a  third  husband. 

Mr,  Canby  and  Mr.  Other  were  buried  side 
by  side,  and  if  ever  graves  quarrelled,  theirs 
did. 

I  often  passed  that  way,  and  it  seemed  to 
me  that  the  grave  of  Mr.  Other  wore  a  per 
petual  grin  because  its  monument  was  the 
higher,  so  I  stole  poor  Canby's  body  one 
night,  and  buried  it  elsewhere,  erecting  at  its 
head  a  monument  taller  than  Mr.  Other's, 
which  bore  no  other  inscription  than  this  : 
"A  Victim  of  Too  Much  Love;  There  is 
Another  in  This  Cemetery."  No  one  knows 


122  A   MAN  STORY. 

I  stole  the  body,  and  to  this  day  there  is 
great  wonder  in  that  neighborhood  as  to  who 
the  two  unfortunate  gentlemen  were  who  died 
of  Love. 


UNCLE   TOM   WRITES  A   LETTER.  123 


CHAPTER     X. 

UNCLE    TOM    WHITES    A    LETTER. 

I  LEARNED  with  regret  the  next  morning 
that  Uncle  Tom  had  gone  away  on  the  early 
train,  before  daylight,  and  when  I  met  Mrs. 
Tom  she  asked  me  to  read  the  following  let 
ter,  as  evidence  that  her  husband  was  the  best 
fellow  in  the  world:  — 

"DEAR  MRS.  TOM,  — I  sat  down  with  a 
view  of  writing  old  Barnaby  that  I  would  not 
return  for  another  week,  but  the  demands  of 
business  are  pressing,  so  I  concluded  instead 
to  write  you  of  my  regret  at  leaving  to 
morrow  morning,  for,  in  justice  to  myself  and 
you,  I  must  hurry  away.  I  enjoy  myself  so 
much  when  at  home  with  you  that  I  am 
afraid  to  remain  too  long,  —  afraid  that  my  con 
tentment  will  cause  me  to  rebel  against  ever 


124  A   MAN  STORY. 

going  away  again.  That  would  be  a  misfortune 
for  both  of  us. 

"  I  am  writing  this  alone,  although  under 
the  same  roof  with  you,  as  a  sort  of  prepara 
tion  for  my  departure;  I  am  schooling  myself 
for  something  that  is  very  disagreeable  to  me. 
I  am  ashamed  of  myself  when  I  realize  how 
foolishly  sentimental  I  am  over  you.  While  I 
am  away  I  hurry  through  each  day,  and  long 
for  night,  because  it  will  put  me  one  stage 
nearer  the  happy  time  when  I  shall  start  home 
to  see  you;  I  only  consent  to  sleep  at  night, 
because  it  permits  me  to  spend  a  few  hours 
in  forgetfulness  of  the  fact  that  I  am  not 
with  you.  All  this  looks  absurd  as  I  write  it, 
but  I  cannot  convince  myself  that  it  is  not 
true. 

"  I  wonder  that  any  man  of  fair  intelligence 
can  be  as  fond  of  a  woman  as  I  am  of  you ; 
that  a  woman  can  exert  the  influence  over  a 
man  that  you  exert  over  me.  I  do  not  mean 
to  be  impious  when  I  say  that  I  have  found 
in  you  that  peace  and  courage  which  should 


UNCLE  TOM   WRITES  A  LETTER.  125 

come  from  conversion  arid  piety ;  had  I  found 
iu  piety  the  peace  you  have  brought  to  me,  I 
should  have  become  an  evangelist,  and  urged 
my  fellow-men  to  seek  that  which  has  com 
forted  me  so  much.  It  seems  to  me  that  this 
is  folly,  but  perhaps  it  would  not  so  seem  had 
I  not  caught  a  bad  contagion  from  contact 
with  the  world;  I  know  something  of  the 
world,  and  the  world  says  the  contentment  I 
have  found  in  Fog  Lake  is  the  contentment 
that  should  come  from  religion. 

"Although  you  know  more  of  my  inner  life 
than  all  other  living  persons  combined,  I  doubt 
if  even  you  know  how  severely  I  criticise  my 
self,  or  how  rigidly  I  examine  everything  I 
accept  as  the  truth.  I  have  spent  a  great  many 
hours  in  trying  to  discover  why  I  am  more 
contented  when  with  you  than  when  away,  and 
why  you  are  more  to  me  than  hope  and  ambi 
tion;  indeed,  I  have  no  hope,  now  that  I  know 
you,  arid  no  other  ambition  than  to  cause  you  to 
always  esteem  me  as  highly  as  you  seem  to  now. 
But  I  can  make  nothing  out  of  the  problem 


126  A   MAN  STORY. 

further  than  that  you  are  wonderfully  agreea 
ble  to  me ;  when  I  am  on  the  road,  I  am 
cold,  and  damp,  and  uncomfortable,  but  when 
I  come  home  you  warm  me  and  rest  me; 
you  lead  me  in  such  pleasant  paths  that  the 
disagreeable  thoughts  that  come  to  me  on  the 
road  never  occur  to  me  at  all. 

"You  once  said  that  I  had  never  been  unjust 
to  you  in  my  life.  I  am  afraid  that  my  de 
sire  to  deserve  that  compliment  is  as  great  as 
any  other  man's  desire  to  deserve  the  forgive 
ness  of  his  Redeemer;  I  fear  that  I  spend  as 
much  time  in  thinking  of  that  remark  as  a 
man  should  think  of  the  hope  that  all  his  sins 
have  been  forgotten. 

"If  you  are  able  to  say  at  the  close  of  your 
life  that  I  have  never  been  unjust  to  you, 
that  will  be  happiness  enough  for  me,  unless 
you  should  be  able  to  add  that  I  deserved  the 
confidence  and  respect  you  so  cheerfully  gave 
me.  It  seems  to  me  that  if  I  continue  to  de 
serve  your  wonderful  confidence,  and  that  if 
/ou  can  say  in  your  last  days  that  I  havo 


UNCLE  TOM   WRITES  A  LETTER.  127 

never  been  unjust  to  you,  I  shall  have  lived 
the  life  of  a  good  man. 

"I  laugh  at  the  heathen  who  goes  to  a 
wooden  idol  with  all  his  sorrows,  and  receives 
comfort;  perhaps  the  heathen  would  laugh  at 
me  should  he  be  told  of  the  god  I  worship. 
I  should  think  old  Barnaby  ought  to  be  relig 
ious,  for  he  has  found  nothing  in  the  world 
to  please  him ;  but  if  I  should  attempt  to 
worship  something  away  off  in  the  sky,  with 
Mrs.  Tom  sitting  by  me,  I  think  I  should 
laugh  at  the  absurdity  of  the  proceeding;  not 
that  I  am  an  impious  man,  but  because  I 
should  honestly  feel  that  way. 

"I  have  often  spoken  in  jest  of  the  time 
when  I  shall  tire  of  you.  I  believe  you  know 
that  the  time  will  never  come,  but  I  doubt 
if  you  know  that  I  really  fear  that  I  am  too 
fond  of  you.  I  know  what  can  be  safely  ex 
pected  of  a  woman,  and  by  this  I  mean  no 
more  than  that  I  know  a  woman  is  human. 
But  I  have  tested  you  beyond  the  limit,  and 
you  have  never  disappointed  me ;  therefore  I 


128  A   MAN  STORY. 

have  corne  naturally  to  regard  you  as  more 
than  a  woman.  There  is  nothing  that  I  covet 
that  you  are  not  to  me,  and,  should  you  fail 
me,  I  should  never  know  another  contented 
moment.  I  do  not  believe  that  you  ever  will, 
though  it  would  be  natural  for  you  to,  for  I 
know  that  I  expect  too  much. 

"This  is  the  reason  I  say  that  I  am  too 
fond  of  you  ;  your  connection  with  me  has 
been  so  perfect  that  I  fear  that  I  could  not 
now  excuse  an  action  in  you  that  would  be 
no  more  than  natural. 

"  If  one  of  the  trains  on  which  I  travel  should 
go  through  a  bridge  a  thousand  miles  away  from 
you,  and  I  should  be  pinned  to  the  earth  beneath 
a  mass  of  burning  wreck,  I  should  expect  you 
to  rescue  me.  There  would  be  no  reason  in 
it,  but  you  never  did  fail  me,  and  somehow 
in  my  despair  I  should  expect  you  to  save 
me  ;  I  should  bear  up  bravely  until  there 
was  no  hope,  and  then  die,  believing  you  had 
forgotten  me.  This  is  what  I  mean  when  I 
say  I  am  too  fond  of  you. 


UNCLE  TOM    WRITES  A  LETTER.  129 

"  Old  Barnaby  hates  his  wife  with  an  exag 
gerated  hate  she  does  not  deserve.  I  fear  that 
I  love  mine  with  an  exaggerated  love  she 
cannot  deserve.  If  I  were  dying,  and  wanted 
you  to  accompany  me  into  the  grave,  I 
believe  you  would  do  it.  There  is  no  limit 
to  my  faith  in  you,  and  it  is  because  you 
have  always  been  more  than  I  expected,  and 
everything  that  I  needed. 

"  You  may  not  know  that  nothing  amuses  the 
people  so  much  as  to  hear  that  any  one  is 
desperately  in  love.  The  reason  is  that  the 
people  have  been  in  love,  and  they  know 
how  little  there  is  in  it  ;  they  know  that  a 
man  or  a  woman  may  feel  one  month  that 
their  love  is  everything  to  them,  and  then 
laugh  at  their  own  folly  the  next.  Every  one 
has  felt  in  his  life  that  while  others  might  be 
fickle,  his  love  was  divine  and  eternal;  but  he 
has  discovered  later  that  his  love  was  like 
every  love  :  a  deep  wound  to  heal,  and  leave 
no  scar  ;  so  the  world  has  come  to  laugh  at 
a  love  affair,  and  the  world  has  reason  to  be 


130  A  MAN  STORY. 

amused  when  a  new  case  of  heart-sickness 
presents  itself.  When  I  was  a  boy  I  had  a 
complaint  called  water-brash,  and  though  I  was 
dreadfully  sick  for  a  few  moments,  my  mother 
laughed  at  my  deep  concern  of  the  conse 
quences,  knowing  that  in  a  little  while  I 
would  be  as  well  as  ever.  Much  as  she 
loved  me,  I  believe  she  would  have  laughed 
in  much  the  same  way  had  I  confessed  to 
being  in  love. 

"If  I  should  ask  in  a  crowd  of  people  if 
they  remembered  the  foolish  joy  they  experi 
enced  before  recovering  from  any  of  their  love 
affairs,  there  would  be  a  knowing  smile  on 
every  face ;  but  if  I  should  continue,  and  tell 
them  that  I  could  not  recover  from  my  folly, 
and  that  I  actually  continued  to  enjoy  the 
delight  of  being  in  love  for  months  and 
months  after  my  marriage,  the  knowing  smile 
would  disappear  from  every  face,  and  I  would 
be  looked  upon  as  a  crazy  man. 

"If  I  should  meet  an  adult  person  who  had 
not  outgrown  the  story  of  Santa  Glaus,  I 


UNCLE   TOM    WRITES  A  LETTER.  131 

believe  I  should  laugh  myself;  people  laugh 
at  those  who  are  in  love  very  much  as  they 
laugh  at  children  who  believe  in  the  good  old 
man  who  drives  the  reindeers,  but  they  all 
believed  in  Santa  Glaus  once  themselves. 

"  If  I  have  a  saint  in  whom  I  believe,  I  think 
the  reason  is  that  my  good  saint  has  con 
vinced  me  of  her  existence,  in  spite  of  my 
worldly  knowledge.  If  a  big  white-whiskered 
man  should  come  into  my  room  every  Christ 
mas  by  means  of  a  very  small  chimney,  and 
give  me  a  blessing  that  I  could  feel,  and  many 
good  gifts  besides,  I  should  believe  in  Santa 
Glaus. 

"  You  are  the  good  saint  that  I  believe  in, 
and  I  can  only  say  in  excuse  of  my  folly 
that  it  has  always  honestly  seemed  to  me 
that  whenever  I  needed  help,  you  gave  it  to 
me  from  a  rich  storehouse,  and  it  proved  to 
be  help  better  suited  to  my  needs  than  I 
could  have  suggested.  I  sometimes  fear  that 
you  must  recognize  your  own  weakness,  and 
think  ill  of  me  because  of  my  blind  faith  in 


132  A  MAN  STORY. 

you ;  but  you  will  pity  my  weakness  when 
you  know  that  I  have  always  longed  to  give 
myself  up  to  a  charm  of  forgetfulness,  and 
that  I  have  discovered,  after  recklessly  enjoy 
ing  my  abandon,  that  the  magic  spell  you 
have  exercised  over  me  has  always  been  for 
my  good. 

"  TOM  " 


NUMBER    ONE  ASSERTS  HIMSELF.          133 


CHAPTER     XI. 

NUMBER    ONE    ASSERTS    HIMSELF. 

A  FEW  weeks  after  Uncle  Tomjs  return  to 
the  road,  I  made  a  discovery  that  changed  the 
course  of  my  life,  and  sent  me  on  a  journey 
which  will  have  much  to  do  with  this  story. 

I  walked  into  the  best  room  one  morning, 
and  saw  at  once  that  I  had  interrupted  my 
father  and  mother  in  a  grave  discussion  with 
Number  One,  for  while  they  stopped  talking 
when  I  entered,  I  thought  I  could  detect  that 
they  had  been  seriously  discussing  a  very  im 
portant  matter  with  him.  I  had  always  been 
allowed  to  believe  that  I  was  of  considerable 
importance  in  the  house,  so  I  don't  know  that 
I  felt  any  presumption  in  imagining  that  I 
would  be  able  to  assist  them  in  solving  the 
knotty  question;  perhaps  I  would  be  able  to 
square  an  old  grudge  I  entertained  for  Num- 


134  A   MAN-  STORY. 

ber  One,  who  occasionally  had  the  hardihood 
to  dispute  with  me  ;  so  I  sat  down  and  waited 
patiently  for  the  conversation  to  be  resumed. 

When  I  looked  at  them,  I  observed  a  sort  of 
assurance  in  the  face  of  Number  One  that  con 
vinced  me  that  whatever  the  conversation  was 
about,  my  father  and  mother  had  the  worst 
of  it,  for  they  both  looked  worried,  as  though 
they  had  just  heard  several  truths  which  it  was 
exceedingly  uncomfortable  for  them  to  admit. 

"  There  is  no  reason  why  his  presence  should 
interrupt  the  conversation,"  Number  One  said, 
rather  impatiently;  "you  all  seem  to  be  afraid 
of  him,  and  that  is  one  reason  why  he  is  idle 
and  worthless.  I  am  talking  of  you,  sir." 

He  turned  upon  me  in  his  splendid  way, 
and  looked  at  me  coolly  as  I  turned  color 
and  gasped  for  breath,  for  I  realized  in  an 
instant  that  while  they  had  been  talking  of 
me,  my  father  and  mother  felt  that  the  un 
favorable  things  he  said  were  true ;  they  gave 
evidence  in  their  faces  of  being  unable  to 
answer  his  arguments.  I  had  felt  all  my  life 


NUMBER    ONE  ASSERTS  HIMSELF.          135 

that  my  mother's  fondness  for  me  was  shared 
by  every  one  with  whom  I  came  in  contact, 
with  the  possible  exception  of  Number  One, 
but  the  idea  was  dispelled  at  one  cruel  blow. 

"  The  German  boys  who  live  across  the 
street,"  Number  One  continued,  "wore  wooden 
shoes  five  years  ago,  and  could  not  speak  a 
word  of  English,  yet  one  of  them  is  in  the 
bank  now,  and  the  other  is  earning  wages  at 
a  trade ;  while  this  boy  of  yours,  who  has  had 
every  opportunity,  amounts  to  nothing  at  all. 
The  truth  is,  he  has  been  spoilt  by  his  indul 
gent  mother,  and  it  is  wrong;  it  is  time  that 
some  one  should  speak,  and  speak  the  dis 
graceful  truth." 

I  had  hoped  that  my  father  would  defend 
me,  but  he  did  not,  for  he  only  said  that 
there  was  a  man  in  town  he  hoped  to  induce 
to  build  a  factory,  and  made  preparations  to 
go  out,  though  as  he  stood  with  the  open 
door  in  his  hand,  he  said  that  he  had  been 
ill-used  when  a  boy,  and  that  he  had  made 
up  his  mind  that  his  son  should  do  as  he 


136  A   MAN  STORY. 

pleased;  if  his  son  turned  out  badly,  he  would 
be  sorry,  but  he  could  not  help  it.  He  had 
regretted  that  I  was  not  more  industrious, 
and  that  I  did  not  take  more  kindly  to  use 
ful  things,  but  he  was  not  a  manager,  and  had 
turned  me  over  to  my  mother;  if  she  had 
made  a  mistake  in  her  course  with  me,  he 
was  sure  it  was  the  result  of  an  indulgence 
he  had  always  coveted  as  a  boy,  and  he  could 
only  regret  it. 

"But,  father,"  my  mother  said,  immediately 
after  the  door  closed  upon  the  Boomer,  as 
though  she  felt  that  I  depended  upon  her  to 
say  something  to  my  credit,  since  my  father 
had  failed,  "  Chance  is  only  twelve  years  old, 
and  I  don't  intend  that  he  shall  learn  a  trade; 
we  will  do  better  by  him  than  that." 

"Nonsense,"  the  old  gentleman  said,  impa 
tiently.  "You  are  not  a  Princess;  you  cannot 
bring  him  up  as  a  Prince,  although  you  have 
attempted  it.  He  is  contracting  such  habits  of 
idleness  now  that  he  will  always  be  idle.  He 
was  never  corrected  in  his  life ;  whatever  he  has 


NUMBER   ONE  ASSERTS  HIMSELF.          137 

wanted  to  do  he  has  done,  and  there  has  been 
no  one  to  tell  him  that  he  was  wrong.  It  is 
shameful;  if  you  won't  do  it,  I  will  tell  him 
that  his  idleness  is  town  talk,  and  that  much 
is  said  concerning  his  impudence." 

"You  were  never  so  strict  with  me,"  his 
daughter  insisted.  "I  have  been  no  more  leni 
ent  with  him  than  you  were  with  me.  In 
recollection  of  your  kindness  in  my  ^girlhood,  I 
should  not  be  less  thoughtful  of  my  own  child." 

"But  you  did  not  need  the  care  this  fellow 
does ;  you  were  an  Olmstead,  and  a  girl ;  but 
Chance  is  a  boy,  and  a  Bennington,  and  he 
needs  governing.  lie  must  be  controlled  and 
put  to  work,  or  I  leave  the  house." 

The  argument  lasted  half  an  hour,  and  I 
was  more  and  more  convinced,  as  it  pro 
ceeded,  that  my  grandfather  was  right,  and 
that  there  was  really  no  foundation  for  any 
thing  my  mother  said.  I  remained  in  the  room, 
hoping  that  she  would  think  of  something  to 
encourage  me,  but  she  did  not,  though  she  cer 
tainly  tried  as  hard  as  she  could. 


138  A    MAN  STORY. 

I  hope  I  do  not  fail  in  respect  to  my  fam 
ily  when  I  say  that  I  was  almost  inclined  to 
take  the  part  of  my  grandfather,  and  feel 
resentment  because  I  had  not  been  brought  up 
differently;  I  had  always  been  permitted  to  do 
as  I  pleased,  and  as  the  neighbors  did  not  feel 
like  pointing  out  my  defects,  I  had  remained 
in  ignorance  of  my  own  weaknesses. 

I  believe  my  mother's  idea  was  that  when 
I  became  a  little  older,  the  business-men  of 
the  place  would  call  upon  me,  and  beg  that 
I  assist  them  in  their  affairs ;  indeed,  I  remem 
ber  that  she  said,  during  the  talk  with  her 
father,  that  when  I  was  a  little  older,  he 
would  see  that  tlie  banker  would  want  my 
services,  and  that  I  would  replace  the  German 
boy ;  but  the  old  gentleman  was  firm  in  his 
conviction  that  I  was  idle,  and  worthless,  and 
impudent,  and  talked  of  the  matter  so  plainly 
that  I  almost  became  convinced  of  it  myself. 
There  had  been  a  time  when  I  imagined  that 
Number  One  disliked  me  because  he  realized 
that  I  was  his  principal  opponent  there  in 


NUMBER    ONE  ASSERTS  HIMSELF.          139 

intelligence  and  learning ;  but  I  knew  better 
now,  and  felt  thoroughly  ashamed  of  myself. 
All  this  humiliated  me  so  much  that  I  re 
solved  to  run  away,  and  go  to  the  City,  where 
I  hoped  to  find  Uncle  Tom,  and  opportunity 
to  distinguish  myself.  So  I  bolted  out  of  the 
room,  resolved  to  take  nothing  with  me  save 
the  clothing  I  had  on.  My  mother  called  after 
me,  and  was  greatly  frightened,  but  I  heard 
her  father  say  it  was  only  my  idle  bravado, 
and  that  I  would  soon  return.  But  for  this 
my  determination  to  leave  Fog  Lake  might 
have  failed  me,  for  it  seemed  a  dreadfully  bold 
thing  to  do,  but  my  indignation  increased  as 
I  walked  hurriedly  through  the  town,  resolved 
to  go  to  the  City,  where  I  hoped  to  find 
Uncle  Tom,  for  he  usually  spent  several  days 
there  after  a  trip  of  four  or  five  weeks.  He 
would  certainly  be  there  within  a  few  days 
after  my  arrival,  so  I  was  determined  to  go 
to  the  City  and  tell  him  how  I  had  been 
treated.  Who  has  forgotten  the  dread  and  fear 
with  which  he  at  first  left  home?  I  do  not 


140  A  MAN  STORY. 

believe  I  could  have  felt  worse  than  I  did  had 
I  been  walking  to  the  grave  where  I  was  to  be 
buried;  walking  because  I  was  so  poor  that  I 
could  not  afford  a  hearse,  and  alone  because 
I  was  so  friendless  that  I  could  not  afford  a 
procession. 

In  order  to  avoid  seeing  any  one  who  might 
know  me,  —  for  I  imagined  that  if  my  inten 
tion  to  run  away  should  be  discovered,  all  of 
Fog  Lake  would  turn  out  to  prevent  rny  go 
ing,  —  I  sat  out  to  walk  to .  a  station  four 
miles  below,  where  the  train  was  due  about 
seven  o'clock  in  the  evening.  I  had  saved  up 
a  small  amount  of  money,  which  I  acciden 
tally  had  about  me,  but  I  took  nothing  else. 
I  was  sorry  I  was  compelled  to  take  even  the 
money,  for  I  wanted  the  folks  at  home  to  feel 
that  I  was  so  high-spirited,  and  so  confident 
of  my  own  ability,  that  I  had  gone  out  into 
the  world  without  a  penny,  certain  that  I  could 
win  my  own  way.  I  fear  that  I  wanted  to 
worry  them  all  as  much  as  possible,  but  as  I 
trudged  wearily  along  the  road,  I  am  not  sure 


NUMBER    ONE  ASSERTS  HIMSELF.          141 

that  the  hope  did  not  enter  my  head  that  I 
would  be  overtaken  by  some  one  in  a  spring 
wagon,  for  I  became  dreadfully  tired. 

The  road  lay  through  an  extensive  tract 
known  as  the  Brooper  Woods,  where  it  was 
said  there  were  panthers,  which  cried  at  night 
like  lost  children,  to  induce  travellers  to  ap 
proach  them.  The  land  was  owned  by  specu 
lators,  and  it  was  a  dismal  place  even  in  the 
daytime,  for  it  always  seemed  damp  under 
the  trees,  as  though  there  was  more  rain 
there  than  anywhere  else.  It  was  also  said 
that  a  witch  and  her  seven  daughters  lived 
in  the  Brooper  Woods,  who  disguised  them 
selves  as  honest  women,  and  told  mischievous 
lies  to  travellers  passing  through,  and  I  hoped 
that  if  I  escaped  the  panthers,  I  should  not 
meet  a  strange  woman  who  would  inform  me 
that  the  person  I  sought  was  at  home,  and 
anxious  to  see  me,  for  that  would  be  a  very 
unfavorable  sign. 

Joe  Tack  had  removed  his  saw-mill  to  that 
part  of  the  country,  and  although  I  think  lie 


142  A  MAN  STORY. 

was  an  interloper,  there  was  so  little  prospect 
of  his  getting  the  mill  running  that  he  was 
not  interfered  with.  I  stopped  a  few  moments 
to  talk  with  him  on  reaching  his  place,  but 
he  did  not  inquire  where  I  was  going.  In 
deed,  he  seemed  rather  offended  that  I  did  not 
take  an  interest  in  his  affairs,  for  while  ham 
mering  away  at  his  boiler,  he  told  me  that 
he  had  seen  his  first  wife  again,  and  looked 
through  his  pockets  for  a  letter  he  had 
lately  received,  but  he  did  not  find  it,  and 
soon  went  off  to  the  other  side  of  the  build 
ing,  when  I  slipped  away,  feeling  that  my 
grandfather  was  right  in  his  contemptible 
opinion  of  me. 

The  people  I  met  on  the  road  and  those  I 
met  around  the  station  looked  at  me  with  an 
indifference  which  caused  me  to  secretly  wish 
for  a  time  that  they  could  know  that  I  was  re 
garded  as  the  smartest  boy  in  Fog  Lake,  and 
that  I  was  running  away  because  I  was  not 
appreciated,  and  the  idea  even  occurred  to  me 
that  in  case  a  pursuing  party  should  dash  into 


NUMBER    ONE  ASSERTS  HIMSELF.          143 

the  station,  and  forcibly  prevent  my  leaving, 
it  would  be  a  sort  of  triumph  over  those  who 
regarded  me  with  so  little  interest.  I  also 
thought  that  in  that  case  I  would  have  the 
satisfaction  of  thinking  that  I  could  have  ac 
complished  all  that  was  ever  expected  of  me 
had  I  been  permitted  to  go  out  into  the 
world;  but  the  humiliating  thought  soon  came 
to  me  that  I  had  been  found  out,  and 
denounced  by  my  grandfather,  and  that  prob 
ably  no  one  cared  what  became  of  me.  So 
the  hour  I  was  to  wait  at  the  station  slipped 
rapidly  and  uncomfortably  by,  and  as  the 
prospects  of  a  rescue  grew  smaller,  I  felt 
more  and  more  like  crying,  for  I  believe  now 
that  I  had  never  doubted  that  in  some  way 
my  intention  would  be  discovered,  and  my 
going  away  prevented,  and  that  my  cunningly 
devised  plan  of  escape  would  be  thought  of 
as  additional  evidence  that  I  was  a  particularly 
bright  boy,  as  well  as  a  boy  of  spirit. 

Going  to   the  City  alone  seemed  easy  enough 
while   I   was   at   home,   but  I    regarded   it  with 


144  A   MAN  STORY. 

horror  as  I  stood  shivering  on  the  platform 
waiting  for  the  train.  Still,  there  was  a  hope 
that  the  telegraph  would  be  brought  into  use, 
in  which  event  I  would  be  taken  in  charge 
some  time  during  the  night ;  so  when  the  train 
was  nearly  due  I  bought  a  ticket  for  the 
City,  nearly  all  my  precious  money  being  re 
quired  for  the  purpose.  I  had  once  thought 
that  should  a  boy  like  I  was  buy  a  ticket 
for  the  City,  the  circumstance  would  attract 
comment;  but  it  did  not,  and  I  went  aboard 
the  train  when  it  arrived  feeling  that  I  had 
not  a  friend  in  the  world. 

Had  I  been  experienced,  I  could  have  se 
cured  a  comfortable  seat  in  a  chair  car  with 
my  ticket,  but  I  supposed  there  was  an  ex 
tra  charge  for  that,  so  I  went  into  a  crowded 
car  where  there  were  crying  children,  and 
fretful  mothers  with  surly  husbands,  and  won 
dered  how  I  should  pass  the  night,  as  the 
train  would  not  arrive  in  the  City  until  the 
following  morning.  Occasionally  a  train-boy 
came  through,  who  looked  at  me  as  though  he 


NUMBER    ONE  ASSERTS  HIMSELF.          145 

expected  I  would  try  to  steal  something  out  of 
his  basket;  but  I  thought  he  would  have  re 
garded  me  in  a  different  light  had  he  known 
that  my  father  kept  a  store  of  his  own,  and 
that  I  had  been  -  free  to  take  oranges  and  figs 
all  my  life. 

There  was  a  long  delay  about  eight  o'clock, 
when  many  of  the  passengers  went  out  to  lunch, 
but  after  that  the  train  made  short  stops,  and 
ran  very  rapidly.  Sometimes  I  wondered  if 
the  train-men  realized  how  rapidly  we  were 
going,  but  while  I  was  thinking  about  it 
with  alarm,  the  conductor  would  come  in,  seat 
himself,  and  quietly  look  over  the  papers  he 
took  from  his  pocket;  or  the  brakeman  would 
come  in  and  take  a  drink  of  ice-water  with  the 
greatest  unconcern,  keeping  his  feet  in  a  mari 
ner  which  I  greatly  admired.  I  argued  from 
this  that  there  was  no  danger,  and  finally  went 
off  to  sleep,  awaking  at  break  of  day  wjth  a 
pain  in  my  shoulders,  and  an  indication  of  a 
cold  in  my  head. 

I  at  once   felt  certain  that  the  train  was  run- 


146  A   MAN  STORY, 

ning  away,  and  that  the  men  in  charge  of  the 
engine  must  have  fallen  off.  We  were  run 
ning  along  a  river,  and  so  very  rapidly  that  it 
seemed  impossible  to  believe  that  any  sane  man 
would  permit  it.  The  other  passengers  were 
sleeping,  and  while  I  was  thinking  that  I 
might  do  something  to  save  the  train  and  the 
people,  and  distinguish  myself  in  such  a  man 
ner  as  to  cause  those  at  home  to  feel  that  they 
had  neglected  me,  there  was  a  sharp  blast 
from  the  engine  whistle,  and  we  soon  stopped 
for  a  moment  at  a  lonely  place  where  there 
were  few  lights,  when  we  went  on  again. 

Being  compelled  to  give  up  the  heroic  plan, 
I  took  a  kind  of  delight  in  thinking  that  *I 
must  be  on  a  train  which  was  making  the 
fastest  time  on  record,  and  that  when  the  fact 
was  mentioned  in  the  City  papers,  I  should 
send  a  copy  home,  with  a  marginal  note  to 
the%iffect  that  I  was  one  of  the  passengers. 

Before  I  had  done  congratulating  myself, 
the  danger  was  over,  for  the  train  began 
slowing  up,  and  we  were  soon  in  the  City. 


/  AM   SURPRISED.  147 


CHAPTER    XII. 

I    AM    SURPRISED 

ABOUT  the  first  person  I  met  after  leaving 
the  train  was  Bud  Footit,  who  greeted  me 
with  the  lofty  indifference  that  might  distin 
guish  a  City  man  who  was  bothered  a  great 
deal  by  acquaintances  from  the  country,  though 
he  became  more  friendly  when  he  saw  that  I 
was  utterly  lost  in  the  noisy  and  rushing 
crowd.  He  appeared  to  have  some  sort  of 
business  there,  for  he  was  in  a  hurry,  and  as 
I  followed  him  around  I  learned  that  he  was 
employed  at  a  milk  depot,  and  that  his  house 
expected  a  large  number  of  cans  on  that  train. 
I  had  known  that  Bud  had  gone  away,  al 
though  I  did  not  know  where,  and  there  was 
a  keen  sense  of  disappointment  in  realizing 
that  I  was  not  the  first  Fog  Lake  boy  who 
had  gone  away  to  the  City.  I  also  felt  a  timid 


148  A    MAN   STORY. 

disgrace  because  Mrs.  Footit's  boy,  a  fellow  of 
no  consequence,  did  not  mind  the  noise  and 
crowd  of  the  City,  while  I  was  very  much  im 
pressed  with  both,  and  I  think  I  humbly  ac 
cepted  it  as  evidence  that  when  my  absence 
was  discovered  at  home,  there  would  be  gen 
eral  rejoicing. 

Bud  had  an  air  with  him  which  indicated 
that  he  had  improved  on  Uncle  Tom's  lessons 
in  fighting,  for  when  we  went  ahead  to  see 
about  the  milk  cans,  he  spoke  sharply  to  a 
man  who  came  near  running  into  us  with  a 
truck,  and  said  to  me  that  he  had  a  notion  to 
hit  the  fellow  for  luck. 

A  wagon  belonging  to  Bud's  house  soon 
arrived;  and  after  I  had  helped  load  the  cans 
into  it,  I  climbed  into  the  seat  with  Bud  and 
the  driver,  and  started  up  into  the  City.  Bud 
said  he  knew  where  Barnaby  &  Co.'s  place 
was,  and  would  set  me  down  there;  and  as  we 
drove  along  he  explained  that  while  he  fre 
quently  passed  the  place,  he  had  not  yet 
stopped  in  to  inquire  for  Uncle  Tom,  as  he  had 


/  AM   SURPRISED.  149 

no  doubt  that  Uncle  Tom,  even  if  he  should 
be  at  home,  would  as  soon  see  a  ghost  as  any 
of  the  Fog  Lake  grays.  I  did  not  know  what 
a  gray  was,  so  Bud  explained  that  they  were 
"  countries,"  and  that  I  was  one,  which  did  not 
increase  my  confidence  in  a  welcome  from 
Uncle  Tom;  and  to  make  matters  worse,  I 
feared  that  Uncle  Tom's  associates  would  see 
me  alight  in  front  of  the  establishment  from  a 
milk  wagon. 

The  driver  of  the  wagon,  who  was  a  young 
fellow,  too,  but  older  than  Bud,  seemed  to 
have  the  greatest  respect  for  Mrs.  Footit's  boy, 
for  in  a  conversation  they  carried  on,  evidently 
for  my  benefit,  I  learned  that  my  friend  had 
already  distinguished  himself;  that  he  was 
known  in  sporting  circles  as  "  Bud,  the 
Country,"  and  that  he  had  engaged  in  six 
fights  in  four  weeks,  easily  winning,  except  in 
one  instance  when  he  was  hit  with  a  rock. 
They  were  going  out  that  night  to  "do"  the 
young  fellow  who  had  thrown  the  rock,  who 
would  probably  be  found  in  company  with 


150  A    MAN   STORY. 

four  associates  in  an  alley  known  as  Howler, 
and  as  a  special  mark  of  favor  they  invited 
me  to  accompany  them,  which  kindness  I  was 
compelled  to  decline  with  thanks,  owing  to 
other  engagements. 

The  wagon  finally  stopped  in  a  busy  street, 
and  I  saw  with  a  shudder  a  modest  sign  on 
a  very  large  building  containing  the  name 
"Barnaby  &  Co."  Bud  gave  me  a  card  con 
taining  the  address  of  the  house  for  which  he 
worked,  and  I  alighted  promising  to  see  him 
again,  for  I  thought  that  in  case  Uncle  Tom 
was  on  the  road,  I  might  find  it  necessary 
to  remain  with  Bud  until  his  return,  though 
I  made  up  my  mind  that  I  would  not  call 
until  the  next  day,  for  I  was  certain  that  I 
had  no  business  that  night  in  Howler  Alley. 

In  the  hope  that  the  clerks  at  Barnaby  & 
Co.'s  had  not  seen  me  on  the  milk  wagon,  I 
resolved  to  stroll  around  for  awhile,  and  ap 
pear  at  the  door  from  another  direction,  and 
this  I  did,  taking  my  breakfast  before  return 
ing.  When  I  could  no  longer  find  excuse  for 


/   AM   SURPRISED.  151 

remaining  away,  I  walked  into  the  store  and 
inquired  of  a  man  who  was  rolling  a  barrel 
if  Mr.  Tom  Saulsbuiy  was  in.  He  answered 
gruffly  that  he  was  in  the  office,  and  I 
walked  back  to  where  a  number  of  clerks 
were  employed,  but  Uncle  Tom  was  not 
among  them.  In  answer  to  another  inquiry, 
one  of  the  clerks  replied  very  civilly  that  Mr. 
Saulsbury  was  in  the  office,  at  the  same  time 
pointing  to  a  door  marked  "Private."  While 
thinking  that  the  important  employe's  were 
more  civil  than  the  unimportant  ones,  and 
that  I  should  probably  find  old  Barnaby  glad 
to  see  me,  I  pushed  the  door  open  and 
stepped  into  a  room  comfortably  equipped  for 
business.  At  a  large  desk,  with  his  back 
toward  me,  sat  Uncle  Tom,  engaged  in  looking 
through  a  lot  of  papers.  When  I  laid  my 
hand  on  his  shoulder,  he  turned  quickly,  as 
though  he  was  not  accustomed  to  such  a  fa 
miliarity,  and  the  look  he  gave  me  left  no 
doubt  that  he  was  displeased.  He  resumed 
his  work  without  speaking,  after  looking  at 


152  A    MAN   STORY. 

me,  and  continued  running  through  his  papers, 
but  without  any  purpose,  and  without  doing 
anything  with  them,  for  I  noticed  that  his  eyes 
sought  the  window,  and  that  he  looked  va 
cantly  at  nothing  while  holding  the  papers  in 
his  hand.  Finally  he  inquired,  still  staring 
out  of  the  window :  — 

"  When    did  you   come  ?  " 

I  told  him,  and  he  again  tried  to  resume  his 
work,  but  without  success,  and  I  felt  so  queer 
that  I  had  a  notion  to  leave  the  room.  He  was 
not  the  same  man  at  all,  except  in  looks,  and 
when  he  muttered  that  he  was  very  busy,  and 
that  I  should  sit  down  until  he  had  more 
leisure,  I  took  a  seat  at  one  side,  and  looked 
at  him  in  astonishment. 

Several  of  the  clerks  I  had  seen  in  the  outer 
office  came  in  to  discuss  various  matters  with 
him,  and  his  conversation  with  them  was  short 
and  business-like  ;  he  was  not  at  all  like  the 
good-natured  fellow  I  had  admired  so  ardently 
in  Fog  Lake.  One  of  the  clerks,  before  com 
mencing  to  discuss  the  business  he  had  in 


I  AM   SURPRISED.  153 

hand,  looked  curiously  at  me,  and  Uncle  Tom 
saw  this,  and  said  it  was  all  right,  without 
turning  around,  and  the  business  went  on. 
Although  Uncle  Tom  was  given  to  all  sorts 
of  idleness  when  at  home,  not  a  superfluous 
word  escaped  him  here,  and  once  it  happened 
that  two  of  the  men  were  in  the  room  at  the 
same  time,  the  second  to  arrive  waiting  near 
the  door  for  his  turn,  and  looking  at  me  with 
a  great  deal  of  curiosity.  Uncle  Tom  knew 
this  without  looking  up,  for  he  soon  dismissed 
the  first  man,  saying  he  would  see  him  in  the 
afternoon,  and  talked  with  the  other  one, 
deciding  whatever  was  wanted  with  a  few 
words. 

Men  who  evidently  had  no  connection  with 
the  house  came  in,  and  talked  about  matters 
concerning  which  I  knew  nothing,  and  had 
never  heard.  Some  of  these  greeted  Uncle 
Tom  quite  familiarly,  but  always  with  great 
politeness,  and  knowing  his  disposition,  I  won 
dered  that  he  did  not  go  out  in  town,  and 
enjoy  himself  with  them.  But  instead  of  this 


154  A    MAN   STORY. 

he  said  as  little  as  possible  to  all  callers,  and 
made  several  engagements  for  the  afternoon. 
The  only  thing  I  could  make  out  of  it  was 
that  old  Barnaby  was  sick,  and  that  Uncle  Tom 
had  been  called  in  from  the  road  to  take  his 
place,  which  I  thought  of  as  quite  an  honor 
for  our  family;  but  none  of  the  visitors  in 
quired  how  old  Barnaby  was  getting  along, 
and  none  of  them  seemed  surprised  to  find 
Uncle  Tom  occupying  his  place. 

After  I  had  been  watching  this  strange 
proceeding  for  two  or  three  hours,  there  was 
a  lull  in  the  affairs  of  the  house,  and  Uncle 
Tom  acted  as  though  he  had  a  notion  to 
speak  to  me. 

"Don't  you  begin  to  suspect  something?" 
he  said,  in  a  manner  which  was  not  at  all  like 
him. 

Believing  that  he  meant  that  I  ought  to 
realize  by  that  time  that  he  was  not  glad 
to  see  me,  and  that  it  was  my  duty  to  get 
away  as  soon  as  possible,  I  explained  that  I 
was  sorry  I  had  annoyed  him  with  a  call,  but 


/  AM    SURPRISED.  155 

that  while  he  had  never  invited  me,  he  had 
certainly  never  intimated  that  I  should  not  call 
at  Barnaby  &  Co.'s  and  ask  for  him. 

He  did  not  reply  immediately,  but  looked 
awhile  in  silence  at  a  spot  on  the  window, 
which  seemed  to  be  a  favorite  with  him,  for 
he  had  looked  at  the  same  place  before. 

"  I  don't  mean  that,"  he  said,  after  awhile, 
without  looking  at  me.  "  Doesn't  something 
else  occur  to  you?" 

I  hadn't  the  remotest  idea  what  he  meant, 
and  said  so.  % 

"Well,  then,"  he  replied,  still  looking  at  the 
favorite  spot  on  the  window,  "I'm  old  Bar 
naby." 


156  A    MAN   STORY. 


CHAPTER    XIII. 

MRS.   BARNABY. 

MY  first  impression  was  that  it  was  my  duty 
to  be  indignant,  and  spring  up  in  a  tragic  man 
ner,  and  denounce  him  in  behalf  of  the  family. 
I  think  every  one  has  an  exaggerated  idea  of 
his  family  honor  as  distinguished  from  his  own, 
but  my  admiration  for  the  man  was  so  strong 
that  I  found  that  I  lacked  the  courage  to  do 
it,  so  I  did  not  say  anything  at  all,  though 
there  was  a  flutter  at  my  heart  when  I  re 
membered  how  Mrs.  Tom  would  receive  the 
news.  She  had  been  so  happy,  poor  girl;  I 
thought  the  shock  would  kill  her. 

I  at  first  felt  a  faintness  and  horror  when 
I  thought  of  my  uncle  making  an  innocent 
accomplice  of  Mrs.  Tom  in  a  wrong,  but  I 
remembered  that  he  did  not  seem  to  be  that 
sort  of  a  man,  and  felt  that  in  justice  to  all 


MRS.    BARNABY.  157 

parties  I  should  wait  till  I  knew  more  of  the 
matter  before  denouncing  him.  He  had  been 
an  ideal  man  to  me  so  long  that  I  could  not 
accept  him  at  once  as  an  ideal  fiend,  and  I 
felt  sure  that  there  must  be  explanations  that 
would  relieve  my  friend;  but  however  guilty  I 
might  have  believed  him,  I  could  not  at  once 
shake  off  my  old  admiration  for  him. 

I  could  not  even  act  independently  of  him, 
for  when  he  put  on  his  hat,  and  intimated 
that  I  was  to  go  out  with  him,  I  followed 
without  saying  a  word,  and  soon  found  myself 
in  a  private  room  in  a  restaurant,  where  I 
imagined  he  frequently  lunched,  for  the  attend 
ants  seemed  to  know  him,  and  spoke  of  him 
as  Mr.  Saulsbury. 

It  was  evidently  his  intention  to  talk  to  me 
concerning  the  matter  when  he  ordered  the  pri 
vate  room,  for  we  could  have  lunched  equally 
well,  and  cheaper,  downstairs ;  but  he  changed  his 
mind,  apparently,  for  he  only  said  with  reference 
to  an  explanation  that  he  had  better  explain  it 
to  Mrs.  Tom,  who  would  understand  it  better. 


158  A    MAX   STORY. 

Although  he  did  not  inquire  about  Mrs. 
Tom,  —  I  thought  he  was  ashamed  to  do  that, 
—  he  gave  evidence  of  his  old  regard  for  her 
in  many  ways,  and  once  said  that  as  she  had 
perfect  confidence  in  him,  he  could  deceive  her 
if  circumstances  required  it,  but  that  it  wasn't 
necessary,  and  he  wouldn't  do  it,  anyway. 
I  had  never  seen  him  so  much  disturbed  be 
fore,  and  I  thought  it  remarkable  that  he 
ordered  and  drank  off  several  glasses  of  liquor, 
for  I  had  heard  him  say  that  while  he  had 
his  faults,  he  did  not  drink.  He  was  as  polite 
to  me  as  I  could  have  expected  had  I  been 
an  agreeable  guest,  but  he  had  a  way  of  for 
getting  I  was  in  the  room,  which  distressed 
me  on  his  as  well  as  my  own  account,  and 
there  was  a  sort  of  recklessness  in  his  manner 
which  made  me  think  that  had  an  enemy  of 
his  come  into  the  room  in  an  equally  bad 
humor,  there  would  have  been  a  fight. 

Once  he  said  he  was  glad  that  it  was  I 
who  had  found  him  out,  instead  of  a  stranger; 
which  I  understood  as  an  intimation  that  he 


MRS.    BARNABY.  159 

thought  I  would  be  of  use  in  straightening 
matters  out,  or  in  keeping  matters  quiet.  He 
had  often  wondered  who  it  would  be ;  for  a 
long  time  he  had  been  expecting  some  one 
from  Fog  Lake  to  step  into  his  office  as  I  had 
done,  and  every  footstep  had  frightened  him, 
and  he  was  glad  that  it  was  over;  he  had 
dreaded  the  plunge  into  the  cold  water,  but 
felt  better  now  that  he  was  out  of  it. 

This  led  him  up  to  saying  that  while  it 
looked  rather  bad,  it  was  really  all  right,  and 
that  Mrs.  Tom  would  understand  it.  He  said 
this  in  a  way  which  convinced  me  that  he 
believed  I  would  accept  the  statement  unhesi 
tatingly;  there  was  that  in  his  manner  which 
made  me  think  that  he  would  not  deceive  a 
friend,  and  that  he  regarded  me  as  a  friend, 
therefore  when  he  said  it  was  really  all  right, 
and  that  Mrs.  Tom  would  understand  it,  I 
believed  that  what  he  said  was  true;  I  could 
never  change  the  impression  he  then  gave  me, 
and  though  my  faith  in  him  was  greatly  tried 
at  times,  I  continued  to  believe  that  in  time 


160  A    MAN   STORY. 

lie  would  make  a  satisfactory  explanation.  He 
had  a  certain  respect  for  his  own  cause  which 
impressed  me  greatly,  and  his  manner  of  ac 
cepting  me  as  a  friend  to  whom  it  was  not 
necessary  to  make  explanations  —  who  believed 
in  him,  anyway,  as  Mrs.  Tom  did  —  impressed 
me  still  more,  and  I  was  content  to  wait  until 
such  time  as  he  saw  fit  to  demonstrate  that 
he  deserved  my  confidence. 

In  referring  to  Mrs.  Tom,  there  was  some 
thing  so  touching  and  confident  in  his  voice 
that  I  resolved  to  tell  her  of  it  when  we  met, 
knowing  that  she  would  be  pleased,  for  the 
slightest  reference  to  her  would  soften  his 
tones  at  once ;  he  evidently  felt  that  Mrs. 
Tom  would  understand  his  situation,  and  that 
she  would  believe  whatever  he  told  her,  and 
do  whatever  he  advised,  confident  that  his 
statements  would  be  true,  and  his  advice  good. 

We  spent  an  hour  in  walking  about  after 
the  dinner,  and  I  thought  Uncle  Tom  was 
trying  to  decide  what  had  better  be  done 
with  me;  but  he  did  not  ask  my  opinion  on 


MRS.    BARNABY,  161 

the  subject,  for  he  seldom  spoke  to  me  while 
on  the  streets,  and  not  at  all  except  to  ex 
plain  something  which  attracted  my  attention. 
It  had  occurred  to  me  once  at  home  that  a 
gloomy  man  would  have  felt  ashamed  of  him 
self  on  encountering  my  good-natured  uncle, 
but  it  seemed  from  the  evidence  before  me 
that  my  uncle  was  a  gloomy  man  himself  in 
the  City,  but  he  recovered  from  his  mood  per 
ceptibly  after  fixing  on  a  plan  with  reference 
to  me;  he  did  not  tell  me  what  it  was,  but 
I  knew  the  exact  moment  when  he  made  up 
his  mind,  for  he  returned  to  Barnaby  &  Co.'s 
at  once,  and  resumed  his  place  at  the  desk. 

I  sat  down  near  him,  and  occasionally  he 
tossed  me  a  book  or  a  paper  with  which  to 
amuse  myself,  but  he  had  little  to  say.  Only 
a  few  persons  came  in  to  see  him,  and  two 
or  three  times  he  went  out  alone,  remaining 
some  time.  After  the  lights  were  lit  in  the 
gloomy  place,  he  came  back  into  the  office, 
and  asked  me  to  write  a  letter,  which  I  did 
from  his  dictation,  as  follows :  — 


162  A    MAN   STORY. 

"  DEAR  MOTHER,  —  I  am  now  in  the  City, 
and  you  need  not  worry  concerning  me.  I 
found  Uncle  Tom  at  home,  but  he  is  going 
away  in  a  few  days,  and  will  take  me  with 

him,   to   a   place   which   he  has  thought   of  that 

• 
will   satisfy   you.       When    I   am   finally  settled, 

I    will    write    you    again.       With    much    love 
for  all, 

"  C." 

This  was  sealed,  directed,  and  stamped,  al 
though  I  did  not  like  the  idea  of  sending  my 
love  to  Number  One,  and  on  our  way  up 
town  we  posted  it  in  a  letter-box.  We 
dined  at  a  different  restaurant  in  another  part 
of  the  City,  but  did  not  take  a  private  room, 
and  met  a  good  many  people  who  knew  Uncle 
Tom,  and  spoke  to  him.  When  we  came 
out,  and  started  to  return  down  town,  it  was 
quite  dark,  and  as  my  uncle  had  not  inti 
mated  in  any  manner  what  disposition  he  in 
tended  to  make  of  me,  I  followed  when  he 
walked  up  a  pair  of  steps  leading  to  a  resi- 


MRS.    BARNABY.  163 

dence  in  a  quiet  side  street,  and  entered  at 
the  front  door  after  he  had  unlocked  it. 
There  were  a  number  of  doors  in  the  hall-way 
which  we  entered,  and  a  stair  leading  to  the 
rooms  above,  and  without  making  a  light  he 
unlocked  the  door  nearest  him,  and  we  went 
into  the  room  which  looked  out  into  the 
street.  Here  he  made  a  light,  and  made 
preparations  for  spending  the  night.  There 
were  three  rooms  on  that  floor,  all  connected 
and  substantially  furnished.  The  one  in  front 
might  have  been  a  parlor,  or  reception-room, 
or  an  office,  for  it  partook  of  the  qualities  of 
all  three.  In  the  middle  one  was  suspended 
a  shaded  lamp  over  a  large  square  table,  and 
in  the  back  room  was  a  bed,  a  very  large 
and  luxurious  one,  with  a  canopy  top. 

I  noticed  all  this  while  Uncle  Tom  was 
finding  excuses  to  keep  from  talking  to  me, 
in  looking  for  his  slippers  and  opening  the 
shutters;  and  when  he  had  found  his  slippers, 
he  lay  down  on  a  lounge  with  his  hands 
folded  behind  his  head,  as  I  had  seen  him  so 


164  A    MAN   STORY. 

often  at  Fog  Lake.  I  was  seated  in  ai 
easy-chair  near  him,  thinking  of  the  strange 
ness  of  my  position,  when  there  was  a  knock 
at  the  door  at  which  we  had  entered.  Uncle 
Tom  did  not  move,  nor  did  he  when  the  rap 
was  repeated  impatiently.  I  was  thinking  he 
must  be  asleep,  and  of  asking  him  if  I  should 
open  the  door,  when  it  was  opened  from  the 
outside,  and  a  stately,  handsome  woman  came 
into  the  room.  I  was  sure  it  was  Mrs.  Bar- 
naby,  for  I  think  no  other  person  would  have 
taken  the  liberty  of  coming  into  the  room, 
and,  as  she  stood  there  looking  vexed  at 
Uncle  Tom's  indifference,  I  remarked  that  she 
was  dressed  with  neatness  and  taste,  in  black. 
There  was  a  marked  difference  between  Mrs. 
Barnaby  and  Mrs.  Tom.  Mrs.  Barnaby  re 
minded  me  of  a  picture  I  had  seen  of  justice, 
for,  though  her  face  was  handsome,  it  was 
hard,  and  determined,  and  persistent.  That 
night  Mrs.  Tom  reminded  me  of  a  slight 
figure  I  had  once  seen  clinging  to  a  cross 
in  a  tableau,  and  which  ascended  upward  out 


MRS.    BARNABY.  165 

of  the  angry  waves  below;  whether  this  meant 
that  Mrs.  Tom  would  cling  to  her  husband 
as  to  a  cross,  and  find  peace  in  that  course, 
I  did  not  know. 

"  Who  is  this  boy  ? "  Mrs.  Barnaby  asked, 
after  looking  coldly  at  me. 

Uncle  Tom  remained  motionless  and  silent, 
and,  when  Mrs.  Barnaby  made  some  impatient 
reference  to  our  lack  of  politeness,  I  crouched 
down  in  my  chair  and  was  silent,  too. 

Although  I  am  certain  that  she  remained  in 
the  room  two  hours,  she  did  not  once  sit 
down,  and,  although  she  talked  a  great  deal, 
there  were  times  when  she  did  not  speak  for 
a  painful  length  of  time,  and  when  there  was 
such  silence  that  the  ticking  of  the  clock 
was  a  relief.  During  these  long  silences  I  made 
the  best  of  what  I  had  heard  to  unravel  the 
mystery  which  surrounded  them,  and  came  to 
the  conclusion  that  she  was  a  proud  woman  of 
social  position  and  worth,  who  was  piqued  and 
angry  because  Uncle  Tom  neglected  her.  I 
believed  that,  while  she  did  not  think  much 


166  A    MAN   STORY. 

of  Uncle  Tom,  she  was  humiliated  to  know 
that  a  woman  of  her  worth  should  be  so 
coldly  treated  by  any  one.  I  came  to  the 
conclusion,  also,  that  she  lived  in  the  same 
house,  occupying  apartments  on  another  floor, 
and  that  she  frequently  came  in  to  talk  to 
Uncle  Tom  of,  her  wrongs. 

At  times  she  denounced  him  in  the  severest 
terms,  and  accused  him  of  being  fickle,  capri 
cious,  unreasonable,  foolish,  and  I  don't  remem 
ber  what  else.  At  other  times  she  asked  him 
questions,  as  wherein  she  had  ever  failed  in  her 
duty  to  him,  or  why  he  had  utterly  refused  for 
years  to  recognize  her  existence.  But,  whether 
she  asked  him  questions  or  denounced  him, 
Uncle  Tom  was  equally  silent,  and  paid  not 
the  slightest  attention  to  her  being  in  the 
room. 

She  related  in  language  burning  with  indig 
nation  how  anxious  he  was  to  become  her 
husband,  and  the  promises  he  made,  and  then 
referred  again  to  his  treatment  of  her.  Her 
principal  complaint  seemed  to  be  that  he 


MRS.    BARNABY.  167 

would  not  speak  to  her,  and  neglected 
and  avoided  her;  all  her  charges  seemed  to 
be  founded  on  his  neglect.  The  people  had 
almost  forgotten  her  name,  she  said,  because 
of  his  neglect,  for  everywhere  she  was  known 
as  Mrs.  Barnaby;  from  this  I  imagined  that 
her  name  was  not  Mrs.  Barnaby  at  all.  Sev 
eral  times  she  hit  him  so  hard  that  I  expected 
him  to  resent  it,  or  make  some  explanation 
for  my  benefit,  but,  whatever  was  in  his  mind, 
he  said  nothing  at  all.  It  also  occurred  to 
me  that  it  afforded  her  keen  pleasure  to  hit 
him  hard  and  at  the  same  time  justify  herself, 
for  after  these  strong  thrusts  she  spoke  more 
as  a  woman  should,  and  after  one  attack, 
which  was  so  keen  that  it  made  my  heart 
ache  for  Uncle  Tom,  she  did  something  to 
ward  putting  the  room  in  order;  a  womanly 
touch  which  made  me  think  more  of  her  than 
before.  A  dozen  times  she  started  to  go,  and 
opened  the  door ;  but  what  she  said  while 
holding  the  door  open  reminded  her  of  some 
thing  else,  so  she  came  back  and  went  on  in 


168  A    MAN  STORY. 

the  old  way ;  a  way  which  was  pitiful,  then 
fierce,  but  always  womanly,  I  thought.  I  had 
heard  only  her  side  of  the  story,  and  it  was 
not  connected;  but  it  had  convinced  me  that, 
while  she  was  ready  to  defend  any  step  she 
had  taken,  Uncle  Tom  had  always  been  stub 
born,  if  not  unjust,  and  that  he  had  spent  years 
and  years  in  sullen  silence,  refusing  to  answer 
any  of  her  questions,  or  explain  his  silence  or 
neglect.  Perhaps  he  had  given  his  reasons  a 
long  time  before ;  but  if  he  had,  they  were 
apparently  of  so  little  force  that  Mrs.  Barnaby 
refused  to  accept  them,  for  she  was  always 
trying  to  show  that  they  had  no  foundation. 
When  she  came  into  the  room  she  carried 
in  her  hand  a  package  of  papers,  and  late 
in  the  night  these  turned  out  to  be  letters 
Uncle  Tom  had  written  her  before  they  were 
married.  These  she  looked  over  and  read  ex 
tracts  from.  They  did  not  sound  like  Uncle 
Tom's  later  letters,  I  thought,  because  they 
were  written  when  he  was  younger,  but  he 
did  not  deny  their  authorship,  or  reply  in  any 


MRS.    BARNABY.  169 

way ;  indeed,  there  was  no  question  that  he 
had  written  them,  for  I  remembered  that  he 
had  quoted  several  of  them  at  Fog  Lake  as 
coming  from  the  ridiculous  old  Barnaby. 

After  reading  an  extract  from  the  letters 
Mrs.  Barnaby  would  ask  why  he  had  changed 
his  opinion  of  her,  and  what  she  had  done  to 
deserve  his  cruel  neglect.  I  did  not  doubt 
that  Uncle  Tom  had  written  them,  but  I 
should  have  doubted  had  I  heard  them  read 
and  been  told  that  he  had  written  them 
to  Mrs.  Tom ;  there  was  a  far-away  sound 
to  them,  somehow,  as  though  they  had  been 
copied  out  of  a  book  rather  than  out  of  a 
heart.  At  last  she  went  away,  and  after  a 
half-hour  of  silence  Uncle  Tom  arose  from  the 
lounge,  shook  himself  as  though  he  had  been 
asleep,  and  gave  me  to  understand  that  I  was 
to  occupy  the  bed  in  the  back  room.  This  I 
did,  and  he  adjusted  the  pillows,  and  made  it 
so  comfortable  that  I  thought  gratefully  of  my 
friendly  feeling  toward  him,  after  hearing  how 
he  was  despised  in  another  quarter. 


170  A    MAN   STORY. 

The  bed  was  so  comfortable  that  I  did  not 
sleep  well,  and  awakened  frequently.  Once  I 
heard  Uncle  Tom  walking  up  and  down  in  the 
front  room ;  at  a  still  later  hour  I  saw  him 
seated  at  the  big  table  in  the  middle  room, 
writing,  and  there  was  such  a  harsh  noise  in 
his  pen  that  I  thought  he  must  be  answering 
the  charges  made  against  him  that  night.  I 
awoke  again,  when  I  detected  noises  on  the 
outside,  indicating  that  day  was  near  at  hand, 
and  supposed  that  Uncle  Tom  had  gone  to 
sleep  without  turning  out  the  light;  but  while 
I  was  thinking  about  it  I  heard  him  resume 
his  walk,  and  knew  that  he  was  still  up. 


OLD    BARNABY.  171 


CHAPTER    XIV. 

OLD    BAKNABY. 

THERE  was  one  phase  of  Mrs.  Barnaby's 
character  which  Uncle  Tom  seemed  to  under 
stand:  he  believed  that  she  had  confidence  in 
him,  except  in  his  neglect  of  her,  therefore  he 
was  of  the  opinion  that  she  would  concern 
herself  but  little  because  of  my  presence  in 

» 

the  house.  Certainly  she  paid  little  enough 
attention  to  me  during  the  first  few  weeks  I 
was  there,  and,  on  coming  out  in  the  morn 
ing,  if  I  met  her  in  the  hall,  she  either  did 
not  notice  me,  or  spoke  politely.  On  the  first 
morning  after  I  was  there  I  found  that  Uncle 
Tom  had  gone  away  and  left  me,  as  I  had 
slept  very  late,  and  as  I  went  out  at  the 
front  door,  I  met  Mrs.  Barnaby  coming  in 
from  the  street.  In  answer  to  her  inquiries  I 
told  her  my  name,  and  explained  that  Mr. 


172  A    MAN  STORY. 

Saulsbury  was  a  friend  of  my  father's,  and  was 
trying  to  find  a  place  for  me.  This  seemed 
to  satisfy  her,  and  I  imagined  from  this  that 
during  their  long  estrangement  Uncle  Tom 
had  conducted  himself  in  such  a  manner  as  to 
win  her  confidence  as  far  as  his  personal  con 
duct  was  concerned,  and  that  she  marvelled  at 
little  he  did  except  at  his  silence  with  her. 

Although  I  was  only  at  the  house  at  night 
I  learned  by  degrees,  from  observation,  that 
the  single  servant  kept  by  Mrs.  Barnaby  also 
looked  after  Uncle  Tom's  apartments,  and  that 
while  Mrs.  Barnaby  ostensibly  lived  there,  she 
was  away  a  good  deal  among  friends,  but  that 
the  servant  was  always  at  home,  and  main 
tained  a  kitchen  and  dining-room  on  the  first 
floor  in  the  half  basement  under  the  room  I 
occupied.  Uncle  Tom,  I  learned  further,  had 
not  eaten  in  the  house  in  years,  taking  "his 
meals  up  town,  and  that  Mrs.  Barnaby  was 
extremely  irregular;  but  the  servant  always 
had  two  plates  laid  for  them,  and  was  as 
much  annoyed  when  they  did  not  appear 


OLD    BARNABY.  173 

promptly,  as  though  they  had  not  failed  her 
in  months.  I  was  stout  and  healthy,  and  as 
Uncle  Tom  usually  went  away  in  the  morning 
without  rousing  me,  I  slept  so  late  that  the 
servant  frequently  found  me  in  bed  when  she 
came  to  put  the  rooms  in  order.  I  thus  be 
came  acquainted  with  her,  and  apologized  for 
my  laziness  by  saying  that  Mr.  Saulsbury,  who 
was  a  friend  of  my  father's,  had  not  yet  found 
a  place  for  me. 

She  said  one  morning  that  she  would  get 
breakfast  for  me,  if  I  would  be  so  kind  as  to 
accept  of  the  favor,  and  as  I  supposed  that 
Uncle  Tom  had  made  the  suggestion,  I  ac 
cepted  it,  and  after  that  I  usually  breakfasted 
there,  though  he  had  made  an  arrangement 
for  me  at  a  place  where  he  often  took  his 
own  meals.  The  servant,  who  was  called 
Miss  Help,  was  greatly  pleased  to  find  that 
there  was  some  one  in  the  house  she  could 
depend  on,  and  waited  on  me  with  the  great 
est  attention  as  I  ravenously  devoured  her 
breakfasts,  which  were  always  good. 


174  A    MAN  STORY. 

Miss  Help  had  a  notion  that  she  was  rather 
an  unusual  cook,  and  I  think  I  encouraged 
this  idea,  for  I  was  a  marvellous  eater.  I 
once  expressed  the  fear  that  the  elaborate 
manner  in  which  she  provided  for  me  would 
attract  the  attention  of  the  head  of  the  house, 
but  Miss  Help  said  no;  the  head  of  the 
house  never  noticed  anything,  and  paid  all 
bills  presented  without  knowing  or  caring 
anything  about  them.  Miss  Help  knew  this, 
because  she  drew  the  money  herself  at  the 
store,  and  the  clerks  knew  her  so  well,  and 
her  master's  notions  concerning  her,  that  when 
she  presented  a  piece  of  paper  saying,  "  I 
want  twenty  dollars — Miss  Help,"  it  was 
promptly  paid  by  the  cashier.  The  same 
cashier  paid  Mrs.  Barnaby's  drafts  in  the  same 
manner,  except  that  they  were  drawn  on 
Barnaby  &  Co.,  and  deposited  in  a  bank  where 
Mrs.  B.  kept  an  account.  There  was  enough 
misunderstanding  there,  Miss  Help  said,  but 
none  of  it  concerned  money  matters.  I  did 
not  imagine  that  Miss  Help  was  extravagant, 


OLD    BARNABT.  175 

except  in  calling  out  my  poor  appreciation, 
and  there  was  something  in  Mrs.  Barnaby 
averse  to  the  idea  that  she  threw  her  money 
away ;  but  in  any  event,  after  being  witness 
to  what  Uncle  Tom  had  silently  submitted  to 
during  my  first  night  under  his  roof,  I  could 
not  imagine  him  complaining  of  expenses,  for 
his  business  seemed  to  earn  him  plenty  of 
money ;  orders  came  every  day  almost  as  nat 
urally  as  the  morning  itself.  Still  he  gave 
it  a  great  deal  of  attention.  He  always  left 
me  sleeping  in  the  morning,  and  usually  he 
worked  awhile  at  the  square  table  in  the 
middle  room  at  night.  I  formed  an  impres 
sion  soon  after  going  to  the  City  that  Uncle 
Tom's  only  recreation  was  in  going  to  see 
Mrs.  Tom,  when  he  left  everything  behind, 
and  became  a  different  man. 

Miss  Help  was  a  great  admirer  of  Uncle 
Tom's,  I  found,  but  she  always  seemed  ashamed 
to  acknowledge  it,  as  if  she  thought  it  a  duty 
to  stand  by  her  sex.  Although  she  was  al 
ways  trying  to  be  strictly  impartial,  there 


176  A    MAN   STORY. 

could  be  no  mistaking  who  was  her  favorite 
of  the  two ;  I  was  only  a  young  fellow,  but 
it  occurred  to  me  that  Miss  Help,  who  was 
a  very  proper  person,  would  have  taken  a 
stand  for  Uncle  Tom  had  she  not  feared  the 
world,  for  she  had  an  idea  that  there  might 
be  wise  head-shakings,  and  sighs,  which  would 
implicate  her.  This  amused  me  very  much, 
and  I  am  afraid  that  I  sometimes  laughed  at 
her  in  return  for  her  kindness. 

I  usually  spent  several  hours  of  every  day 
at  the  store,  and  learned  that  Mrs.  Barnaby 
was  known  by  that  name  by  all  the  em 
ploye's  ;  probably  for  the  reason  that  the  founder 
of  the  house  had  been  a  certain  Mr.  Barnaby. 
Uncle  Tom  was  originally  the  company,  but 
when  old  Mr.  Barnaby  died,  and  the  business 
passed  into  Uncle  Tom's  hands  as  sole  owner, 
he  did  not  change  the  name  of  the  firm. 
The  employe's  knew  that  their  employer's  re 
lations  with  his  wife  were  not  pleasant,  so 
they  formed  a  habit  of  referring  to  her  as 
Mrs.  Barnaby,  which  I  thought  they  did  with- 


OLD   BARNABY.  Ill 

out  any  lack  of  respect.  The  cashier  of  the 
house  was  a  certain  Mr.  Barnaby,  a  dignified 
gentleman  of  perhaps  forty,  and  as  Mrs.  Bar 
naby  transacted  all  her  business  with  him, 
this  may  have  been  another  reason  why  she 
had  lost  her  own  name.  Mr.  Barnaby  was 
next  to  Uncle  Tom  at  the  store,  and  dis 
tantly  related  to  the  founder  of  the  house. 
He  was  always  very  polite  to  me,  and  if  I 
entered  the  place  when  Uncle  Tom  was  out, 
he  saw  that  my  wishes,  whatever  they  might 
be,  were  attended  to.  I  believe  that  had 
any  of  the  other  employe's  annoyed  me  with 
their  curiosity,  or  otherwise,  Mr.  Barnaby 
would  have  come  promptly  to  my  relief,  and 
I  therefore  had  great  respect  for  him. 

While  at  his  business  in  the  City  Mr. 
Tom  Saulsbury  was  as  different  as  possible 
from  Uncle  Tom  in  Fog  Lake.  I  always 
thought  of  him  as  old  Barnaby  while  around 
the  store,  starting  sometimes  when  I  looked 
at  him  to  find  him  so  young,  for  I  had  had 
a  venerable  picture  of  old  Barnaby  in  my 


178  A    MAN-   STORY. 

mind;  but  when  we  were  in  his  rooms,  or 
together  on  the  streets,  he  became  Uncle  Tom 
again,  except  that  the  presence  of  Mrs.  Tom 
was  needed  to  complete  the  change.  While 
about  his  business  he  took  no  interest  in  any 
thing  outside  of  his  business  affairs,  being 
always  attentive  and  polite,  but  never  encour 
aging  any  one  to  talk  of  trifles ;  at  Fog  Lake 
he  never  talked  of  his  business  at  all,  except 
to  abuse  himself  as  old  Barnaby,  and  nothing 
amused  him  so  much  as  trifles.  Those  with 
whom  he  was  associated  had  the  greatest  re 
spect  for  him,  and  I  am  certain  that  none  of 
them  entertained  dread  or  fear  of  him,  accept 
ing  his  grave  way  as  being  a  superior  way. 
None  of  them  ever  tried  to  find  out  who  I 
was,  and  they  only  interested  themselves  in 
me  because  I  was  apparently  a  friend  of  Mr. 
Saulsbury. 

One  day  Mr.  Barnaby  handed  me  a  letter 
addressed  in  care  of  "  Mr.  Tom  Saulsbury, 
with  Barnaby  &  Co."  It  was  from  my  mother ; 
and  although  it  expressed  much  sorrow  and 


OLD    BARNABY.  179 

concern  because  of  my  disappearance,  I  could 
not  conquer  the  belief  that  she  was  really  glad 
I  had  gone,  since  Number  One  had  threatened 
to  leave  if  I  did  not,  so  I  did  not  answer  it 
at  once.  I  admit  with  humiliation  now,  that 
I  wanted  to  worry  them  as  much  as  possible, 
but  my  excuse  then  for  not  writing  was  that 
I  might  complicate  Uncle  Tom's  matters  by  a 
lack  of  cunning.  I  still  believed  in  him,  and 
thought  that  if  given  time  he  would  explain 
everything. 

I  am  of  the  opinion  now  that  Uncle  Tom 
took  me  home  with  him  hoping  that  Mrs. 
Barnaby  would  induce  me  to  tell  her  all  about 
Mrs.  Tom,  having  tired  of  keeping  the  story ; 
but  I  believed  then  that  he  had  introduced 
me  there  because  he  had  great  confidence  in 
me,  and  I  was  constantly  on  my  guard. 
Indeed,  I  think  my  care  was  the  cause  of  the 
suspicions  Mrs.  Barnaby  finally  came  to  enter 
tain  with  reference  to  me.  One  day  she  asked 
me  a  few  questions  concerning  my  family 
history,  with  a  view  of  being  friendly,  I  think, 


180  A    MAN   STORY. 

and  I  was  so  studied  in.  my  replies,  and  hes 
itated  so  much,  that  the  circumstance  must 
have  set  her  to  thinking,  for  after  that  she 
seemed  to  have  some  sort  of  a  plan  with 
reference  to  me.  It  was  a  system  of  cross-ques 
tioning,  and  as  she  was  far  more  cunning  than 
I  was  she  soon  had  me  hopelessly  complicated. 
She  frequently  invited  me  to  ride  with  her,  and 
though  I  imagined  that  this  was  an  act  of  po 
liteness,  I  know  now  that  she  did  it  simply  for 
the  opportunity  it  gave  her  to  question  me. 

One  day,  while  seated  alone  in  the  carriage, 
Mrs.  Barnaby  having  gone  into  a  store,  Bud 
Footit  passed  on  the  sidewalk.  He  was  at  first 
dazed  at  the  luxury  of  my  manner,  and  as  his 
face  was  a  mass  of  bruises  I  hoped  Mrs.  Bar 
naby  would  not  see  him,  for  a  sight  of  him 
would  only  complicate  matters.  But  he  only 
stopped  long  enough  to  tell  me  that  he  had 
been  attacked  by  superior  numbers,  in  Howler 
alley,  and  when  I  reminded  him  that  Uncle  Tom 
had  once  said  that  in  such  an  emergency  the 
best  thing  was  to  back  up  against  a  wall,  and 


OLD    BARNABY.  181 

strike  with  great  caution,  he  hurried  away  to 
act  on  the  idea. 

During  the  same  drive  I  made  a  slip  and 
spoke  of  Mr.  Saulsbury  as  "  Uncle  Tom "  in 
Mrs.  Barnaby's  presence,  and  she  asked  me 
why  I  did  it.  Feeling  that  I  was  in  a  fix 
I  refused  to  answer  at  all,  and  she  did  not 
speak  to  me  again  during  the  drive.  After 
that  I  refused  to  go  with  her,  although  she 
was  more  anxious  than  ever  to  question  me, 
and  this  greatly  increased  her  suspicions,  I 
thought.  All  this  made  me  very  miserable,  and 
I  often  thought  seriously  of  running  away  again. 

After  I  had  been  in  the  City  two  weeks 
or  such  a  matter  Uncle  Tom  went  away  one 
day,  and  I  believed  that  he  had  gone  to  see 
Mrs.  Tom,  although  I  did  not  know  it.  That 
night  I  retired  to  his  rooms,  as  usual,  and 
had  a  notion  to  lock  the  door,  fearing  Mrs. 
Barnaby  would  call  upon  me;  but  while  I  was 
thinking  it  over  she  came  in.  After  looking 
about,  and  seeing  that  I  was  alone,  she  com 
menced  her  questioning  again,  and  was  not 


182  A    MAN  STORY. 

long  in  expressing  the  opinion  that  there  was 
a  secret  between  Uncle  Tom  and  me,  and  that 
she  would  find  it  out.  I  thought  my  safest 
course  lay  in  silence,  so  I  refused  to  say 
anything  at  all,  and  would  have  been  amused, 
but  for  my  fright,  to  remember  how  very  much 
like  Uncle  Tom  I  was  acting.  I  am  certain 
that  she  sat  for  an  hour  without  speaking, 
when  I  believed  she  was  thinking  up  a  new 
plan  of  attack ;  and  this  frightened  me  so  much 
I  wonder  I  did  not  bolt  out  of  the  house. 
When  she  did  speak,  after  a  long  silence,  it 
was  to  ask  a  question  more  cunning  than  any 
she  had  ever  asked  me  before,  and  I  now 
understood  why  her  visits  to  Uncle  Tom  were 
so  distasteful  to  him.  I  had  told  her  that  one 
member  of  our  family  was  an  aunt,  and  this 
she  never  forgot.  Was  she  young  or  old,  or 
married  or  single,  and  a  thousand  other  ques 
tions  like  it;  and  the  more  he  talked  about 
the  aunt  the  more  she  seemed  to  hate  her. 
She  asked  me  if  I  would  send  a  letter  of  her 
writing  to  my  aunt.  I  did  not  reply,  occupying 


OLD    BARN  AST.  183 

myself  in  remembering  that  when  I  had  first  met 
Mrs.  Barnaby,  I  had  told  her  I  was  from  a  place 
called  Spirit  Lake,  a  name  by  which  our  town  had 
once  been  known.  The  name  had  disappeared 
from  the  maps,  I  knew,  and  so  felt  there  was 
no  danger  of  her  making  personal  investigation. 

She  tried  to  coax  me  to  agree  to  answer 
just  one  question,  and  when  I  would  not  agree, 
and  she  asked  it  anyway,  I  saw  that  to  reply 
would  have  ruined  everything ;  so  I  became 
more  and  more  impressed  with  Mrs.  Barnaby's 
cunning,  and  more  and  more  afraid  of  her.  I 
felt  certain  that  everything  would  come  out  in 
a  little  while,  she  was  so  much  interested,  and 
I  thought  seriously  of  writing  to  Mrs.  Tom  to 
hide  until  I  told  her  the  danger  was  past,  I 
so  much  dreaded  a  meeting  between  them. 

When  she  finally  went  away,  after  sitting  a 
long  while  without  speaking,  I  thought  she  had 
made  up  her  mind  to  come  back  during  the 
night,  and  torture  me  into  a  confession;  so  I 
carefully  locked  all  the  doors  before  going  to 
bed,  and  spent  a  wakeful  night. 


164  A   MAN    STORY. 


CHAPTER    XV. 

A    LETTER    FROM    MRS.    TOM. 

IT  turned  out  that  Uncle  Tom  had  been  to 
Fog  Lake  during  his  absence  of  three  or  four 
days,  for  while  he  did  not  say  so  himself,  I 
received  the  following  letter  from  Mrs.  Tom 
the  day  after  he  reappeared  in  the  store  :  — 

"Your  Uncle  Tom  came  home  on  Friday, 
and  acted  so  strangely  during  the  two  days 
he  remained  that  I  write  you  to  inquire  if 
you  know  of  anything  that  has  happened  to 
him. 

" i  Have    I   offended   you  ? '    I   asked   him. 

" '  No,'  he  answered ;  '  I  never  thought  so 
much  of  you  in  my  life  as  I  do  now.' 

"  '  Then    why    are    you   so    changed  ?  ' 

" ;  I  have  often  taxed  your  patience,'  he 
answered  (he  really  never  did  tax  my  patience, 


A   LETTER   FROM  MRS.    TOM.  185 

not  even  once), '  but  let  me  tax  it  once  more. 
I  have  often  envied  the  spoilt  boy  who  acted 
precisely  as  he  felt  when  out  of  humor ;  let 
me,  therefore,  act  as  I  feel  for  once  in  my 
life,  and  do  as  I  want  to,  without  restraint  or 
question.  Everything  has  gone  wrong  on  the 
road,  and  nothing  will  help  me  so  much  as 
your  agreement  to  let  me  act  as  I  feel ; 
nothing  will  do  me  so  much  good  as  to  be 
with  you,  and  act  as  I  want  to,  without  fear 
of  questions  or  inferences.  I  am  out  of  humor 
because  you  have  done  so  much  that  has 
pleased  me,  and  I  have  done  so  little  to 
deserve  it.  Nothing  can  cure  me  so  quickly 
as  being  with  you;  and  if  I  appear  reserved 
or  cold  toward  you,  we  will  say  it  is  a  plan 
I  have  adopted  to  punish  myself.  If  I  should 
want  to  walk  out  of  the  house  in  the  middle 
of  the  night,  and  take  the  road  again,  for  this 
once  let  me  do  it;  I  shall  not  feel  offended 
if  you  do  not  attempt  to  persuade  me  from 
it,  although  I  should  ordinarily.  If  I  should 
feel  disposed  to  mope  around  all  the  time  I 


186  A  MAN  STORY. 

am  at  home,  and  say  nothing,  for  this  once 
let  me  do  it,  and  do  not  question  me,  or  draw 
unfavorable  inferences  from  my  odd  conduct ; 
after  I  have  recovered  you  shall  know  all 
about  it.  I  feel  that  I  must  carry  out  the 
strange  humor  I  am  in,  and  in  your  presence ; 
nothing  else  will  do  me  any  good.  I  feel  so 
wicked  because  of  the  bad  business  that  until 
I  recover  I  cannot  trust  myself  anywhere  but 
with  you,  and  while  I  am  with  you  I  feel 
my  wickedness  so  much  that  it  seems  like 
profanation  for  you  to  touch  me.  I  don't 
know  that  you  can  understand  this,  but  what 
I  have  said  represents  my  odd  humor,  and  if 
you  will  respect  it,  you  will  increase  my  ad 
miration  for  you,  and  do  what  is  for  the 
best.' 

"When  we  went  into  our  room,  he  lay 
down  on  the  bed,  and  covered  his  face  with 
his  hands,  and  did  not  move  for  a  long  time ; 
but  he  was  not  asleep,  for  once  when  I  asked 
him  if  it  would  interfere  with  his  humor  should 
I  stroke  his  hand,  he  shook  his  head,  and  said 


A    LETTER    FROM  MRS.    TOM.  187 

no.  I  then  asked  him  if  I  might  hold  his 
head  in  my  lap,  on  a  pillow,  which  always 
pleased  him,  and  he  answered  that  I  might. 
So  I  got  the  pillow,  and  he  went  to  sleep  in 
this  position,  saying  that  he  was  tired,  and 
wanted  rest,  and  he  did  not  waken  until  near 
twilight.  He  said  he  felt  very  much  better 
when  he  awoke ;  he  certainly  was  less  moody, 
and  asked  me  again  to  excuse  what  he  called 
his  humor. 

"  He  excused  himself  from  seeing  members  of 
the  family  whenever  it  was  possible,  and  after 
we  had  retired  to  our  room  for  the  night  he 
said  it  was  another  part  of  his  humor  that  I 
should  rest  myself  as  he  had  done,  and  when 
he  arranged  the  pillow,  and  I  lay  down  in  his 
arms,  he  talked  to  me  in  problems  and  rid 
dles,  and  told  me  strange  stories,  always  asking 
me  what  I  would  do  under  similar  circum 
stances  were  he  and  I  concerned.  I  am  glad 
that  my  answers  were  always  satisfactory,  for 
he  said  they  were,  though  he  added  that  it  did 
not  matter,  for  the  problems,  and  the  riddles, 


188  A   MAN  STORY. 

and     the     stories     were     only     a     part     of     his 
humor. 

"  Once  I  awoke,  and  he  was  still  holding 
me  in  his  arms.  The  room  was  perfectly 
dark,  and  when  I  asked  if  I  was  doing  all  I ) 
could  to  help  him,  he  said  yes,  —  I  could  do 
nothing  more ;  he  had  a  great  deal  to  think 
about,  and  could  get  through  with  it  better 
as  he  was.  I  asked  if  I  might  tell  him,  very 
quietly  and  in  as  few  words  as  possible,  how 
dear  he  was  to  me,  and  how  much  I  wanted 
to  serve  him ;  and  when  he  answered  that  •  I 
might,  and  I  told  what  a  good  man  I  thought 
he  was,  a  tear  fell  in  my  face ;  my  husband 
was  crying  from  wretchedness,  though  he  tried 
to  keep  it  from  me.  I  can  never  tell  you 
how  I  felt  when  I  thought  of  this,  and  though 
I  was  anxious  not  to  annoy  him  he  realized 
that  I  was  sobbing,  and  said — as  gently  as  my 
mother  might  have  done  —  that  I  was  doing 
all  I  could  do,  and  that  I  always  did.  But  I 
fear  that  I  have  been  remiss  in  my  duty 
somehow;  when  I  realized  that  our  brave 


A  LETTER  FROM  MRS.    TOM.  189 

Uncle  Tom,  our  kind  and  merry  Uncle  Tom, 
was  so  unhappy  that  he  was  crying,  I  felt 
that  the  charm  he  always  said  I  exercised  over 
him  was  broken,  and  that  there  was  no  longer 
any  reason  why  I  should  live. 

"  When  the  sun  came  up,  he  said  he  felt 
better,  adding  that  since  his  humor  had  at 
tacked  him,  he  was  afraid  of  the  darkness ; 
there  were  phantoms  in  it  that  provoked  him 
so  much  that  he  wanted  to  fight  them. 

"  He  lounged  in  the  room  all  of  that  day, 
sleeping  in  his  chair  occasionally,  but  saying 
little ;  and  I  hoped  he  was  glad  to  have  me 
near  him,  for  he  frequently  said  that  he  was 
tired  and  worried,  but  was  rapidly  becoming 
rested. 

"  That  night  he  went  away,  his  last  words 
being  that  he  hoped  I  could  forgive  the 
strangeness  of  his  humor. 

"If  anything  has  happened  I  wish  you 
would  tell  me.  I  have  so  much  confidence 
in  my  husband  that  I  am  not  worried,  except 
on  his  account;  I  am  certain  that,  whatever  his 


190  A   MAN  STORY. 

trouble    is,   it    would   not   worry   me.      Perhaps 
if    I    knew    what    it   was,   and    could  tell  him 
that    I    cared    nothing    for    it,    except   that    it 
annoyed   him,   he   would    feel  better. 
"  Good-by,   and  be   a  good  boy. 
"  Hurriedly, 

"MBS.  TOM." 

I  told  him  of  the  letter  when  we  were 
alone  together  in  his  rooms,  the  night  after 
his  return,  and  he  asked  to  see  it.  He  read 
it  over  several  times,  but  made  no  other  ref 
erence  to  it  than  to  say  that  the  pilgrimage 
to  say  his  prayers  before  his  shrine  had  done 
him  good. 

Mrs.  Barnaby  came  in  while  Uncle  Tom  was 
still  thinking  pleasantly  of  the  letter,  and  soon 
began  in  the  old  strain.  Uncle  Tom  was  sit 
ting  in  a  chair,  and  he  made  no  reply  to 
anything  Mrs.  Barnaby  said,  although  she  said 
a  good  deal ;  but  I  thought  there  was  some 
thing  in  his  sullen  way  of  looking  at  the 
floor,  which  indicated  that  he  was  becoming 


A   LETTER   FROM  MRS.    TOM.  191 

impatient.  He  had  received  her  attacks  before 
with  sullen  indifference,  but  on  this  night*  he 
had  a  way  of  glancing  about  that  convinced 
me  that  he  felt  like  resenting  her  assaults  on 
his  honor  and  integrity. 

Mrs.  Barnaby  had  evidently  concluded  to 
cross-question  Uncle  Tom,  probably  being  en 
couraged  by  her  success  with  me;  but  she 
made  poor  headway,  for  he  would  not  reply, 
although  much  that  she  said  indicated  that 
her  conclusions  were  very  near  the  truth. 
I  do  not  believe  she  thought  that  Uncle 
Tom  had  married  again,  bat  she  certainly 
thought  that  he  was  in  love  with  my  aunt ; 
one  of  her  statements  was  that  his  actions 
toward  her  indicated  that  he  was  infatuated 
with  some  one  whom  he  was  anxious  to  con 
vince  that  he  hated  his  wife. 

Later  in  the  evening  he  took  his  hat 
and  went  out,  and  did  not  return  that  night; 
and  I  thought  this  action  was  another  indi 
cation  that  he  was  in  a  bad  humor,  and 
feared  that  if  he  remained  he  would  defend 


192  A   MAN  STORY. 

himself.  Mrs.  Barnaby  soon  followed  him, 
without  speaking  to  me,  but  she  came  back 
in  a  little  while,  and  had  a  great  deal  to 
say  concerning  the  indignity  to  which  she 
was  being  subjected  in  her  own  house.  In 
a  fit  of  desperation  I  said  that  any  wrong 
I  might  have  done  her  was  innocent,  but  I 
regretted  saying  it  at  once,  for  she  almost 
laughed  at  having  caught  me.  Her  manner 
toward  me  was  her  manner  toward  Uncle 
Tom,  in  its  subdued  fierceness ;  and  when  I 
tried  to  remedy  what  I  had  said  by  remark 
ing  that  I  had  never  married  her,  she  laughed 
a  kind  of  hysterical  laugh,  expressive  of  con 
tempt,  and  as  she  went  out,  she  referred  to 
me  as  a  silly  boy,  and  hurried  to  her  room, 
where  I  could  hear  her  walking  about  so 
rapidly  and  desperately  that  I  was  certain 
our  affairs  were  about  to  reach  a  crisis. 


A  MAN'S   GRIEVANCE.  193 


CHAPTER     XVI. 

A    MAN'S    GRIEVANCE. 

THE  next  night  when  Mrs.  Barnaby  came 
into  the  room,  and  began  in  the  old  strain, 
Uncle  Tom  startled  me  by  saying :  — 

"  Why  do  you  say  I  have  never  given  you 
an  explanation  of  my  conduct?  You  must 
know  that  I  have  explained  it  a  thousand 
times ;  always  humiliating  myself  and  taking 
the  blame  from  you." 

It  was  the  first  time  he  had  ever  spoken 
during  her  tauntings,  and  I  believe  that  he 
did  it  to  excuse  himself  to  me,  and  through 
me  to  Mrs.  Tom.  Mrs.  Barnaby  was  as 
much  surprised  as  I  was,  I  thought,  for  she 
made  no  reply. 

"  I  do  not  say  it  to  be  impudent,  or  with  any 
lack  of  respect,"  he  continued,  "  but  it  would 
be  monstrous  for  two  people  to  live  together 


194  A   MAN  STORY. 

who  hate  each  other  as  we  do.  Did  you  not 
cordially  hate  me  you  would  not  lash  me  as 
you  do ;  and,  while  I  never  reply,  I  would 
not  be  human  did  I  not  hate  you  for  the 
way  in  which  you  punish  me.  My  worst 
enemy  has  never  said  half  the  bitter  things 
of  me  that  you  have  said,  and  yet  you  won 
der  why  I  act  as  I  do." 

I  thought  it  was  a  satisfaction  to  Mrs. 
Barnaby  that  she  had  induced  him  to  reply 
at  last,  for  she  did  not  attempt  to  defend  her 
self;  perhaps  she  believed^  too,  that  in  his 
excitement  he  would  say  something  to  throw 
more  light  on  the  subject  in  which  she  was 
most  interested. 

"  There  was  a  time,"  he  continued,  "  when 
you  never  spoke  to  me  of  this  matter  that  I 
did  not  attempt  to  explain  my  position,  and 
although  I  did  it  with  sincerity  and  respect, 
you  did  not  believe  a  word  I  said,  and  ques 
tioned  every  statement  the  next  time  we  met. 
You  never  caught  me  in  a  falsehood  in  your 
life,  yet  you  believe  me  to  be  a  liar.  Can- 


A  MAN'S  GRIEVANCE.  195 

not-  you  understand  that  it  is  impossible  for 
me  to  love  a  woman  who  has  such  a  mon 
strous  opinion  of  me,  and  with  so  little  reason? 
I  could  no  more  do  it  than  I  could  cause  my 
arm  to  grow  longer  by  the  exercise  of  will 
power.  You  seldom  fail  to  intimate  that  I 
am  arranging  to  wrong  you  in  a  business  way, 
and  you  frequently  make  inquiries  that  hu 
miliate  me.  You  never  caught  me  in  a  dis 
honorable  action,  yet  you  believe  me  to  be  a 
dishonorable  man.  Many  wives  believe  their 
husbands  to  be  truthful  and  honorable  when 
the  world  has  every  reason  to  doubt  that  they 
are ;  you  accuse  me  of  offences  of  which  the 
world  acquits  me." 

"  Tom,"  she  said,  in  a  softened  tone,  which 
surprised  me  as  much  as  her  calling  Uncle 
Tom  by  his  first  name,  "  I  never  did  that." 

"  That  is  one  of  the  unfortunate  things  be 
tween  us,"  he  replied.  "  Upon  my  honor  you 
have  done  it  many  times.  Many  times  I  have 
cited  instances,  and  you  have  acknowledged 
them,  yet  you  now  say,  and  I  have  no  doubt 


196  A   MAN  STORY. 

you  believe,  that  you  never  did.  It  has  been 
the  misfortune  of  our  lives ;  we  never  agreed 
on  anything;  we  can't  even  agree  to  decently 
disagree. 

"I  dislike  to  dispute  with  you,  but  there 
is  really  no  question  that  you  know  why  I 
am  not  your  husband;  you  must  acknowledge 
this.  There  is  now  no  more  prospect  of  a 
reconciliation  between  us  than  there  is  pros 
pect  of  winter  in  summer ;  there  may  have 
been  a  time  when  it  was  possible,  but  if  you 
desired  a  reconciliation  you  gave  me  to  under 
stand  that  you  did  not ;  I  mean  that  you  did 
exactly  what  made  a  reconciliation  impossible. 
No  woman  ever  knew  a  man  better  than  you 
knew  me ;  had  I  confessed  my  personal  weak 
nesses  to  you  every  day  of  my  life  you  could 
not  know  me  better  than  you  do,  but  you 
did  not  use  this  knowledge  in  a  way  cal 
culated  to  cause  me  to  feel  that  I  was  in  the 
wrong  or  to  smooth  my  resentment.  I  told 
you  what  displeased  me,  and  it  was  no  more 
than  I  had  a  right  to  do,  but  you  thought  I 


A  MAN'S   GRIEVANCE.  197 

was  so  fond  of  lying  that  I  misrepresented 
myself,  and  paid  no  attention,  though  I  was 
not  unreasonable ;  you  could  have  as  easily 
respected  my  wishes. 

"  There  never  was  a  trait  in  my  character 
that  I  tried  to  hide  that  you  did  not  dis 
cover  against  my  will,  and  these  you  have 
harped  upon  until  I  dread  to  see  you.  In 
deed,  you  harped  upon  these  faults  until  I 
cured  myself  of  them,  but  you  never  noticed 
that ;  you  believe  this  moment  that  I  have 
failings  which  I  overcame  in  my  early  man 
hood.  Of  all  the  people  in  the  world  you 
are  the  most  unjust  to  me ;  consequently  of 
all  the  people  in  the  world  you  are  the  one 
I  will  never  love. 

"I  have  tried  so  often  to  live  respectably 
with  you,  that  could  you  forget  your  prej 
udice  against  me,  and  realize  the  honest 
truth,  you  would  honor  me  for  sincere  at 
tempts  to  do  right ;  but  the  more  I  tried, 
the  greater  the  obstacles  you  placed  in  the 
way.  I  do  not  believe  you  did  this  mali- 


198  A   MAN  STORY. 

ciously,  but  you  had  a  theory  concerning  the 
best  way  to  manage  a  husband,  and  it  failed. 
Nothing  will  ever  convince  you  that  I  have 
not  avoided  you  because  of  a  sullen  caprice, 
and  a  desire  to  make  you  wretched;  the 
honest  truth  is  that  it  causes  me  as  much 
remorse,  regret,  and  unhappiness  as  it  does 
you,  but,  since  we  can  never  agree,  why  give 
each  other  cause  for  more  hatred?  Every 
time  you  have  attacked  me,  although  I  did 
not  reply,  I  hated  you  more  than  ever  after 
you  had  gone,  and  I  know  that  my  breaking 
my  long  silence  now  will  have  a  similar  ef 
fect  on  you.  You  have  said  so  many  dis 
pleasing  things  to  me  that  you  could  not 
say  a  pleasing  one  now;  should  you  attempt 
it,  I  should  accuse  you  of  deception. 

"For  two  years,  at  intervals,  you  have 
taunted  me  with  dishonesty  and  deception 
because  of  that  divorce  proceeding.  1  gave 
you  my  word  of  honor,  in  writing,  that  I 
did  not  attempt  to  deceive  you ;  that  I  be 
lieved  you  received  the  notice,  and  did  not 


A   MAN'S   GRIEVANCE.  199 

care  to  defend  the  action,  and  in  addition 
to  this  you  had  absolute  proof  that  what  I 
said  was  true ;  but  in  the  face  of  this  solemn 
assurance,  supported  by  the  circumstance  that 
you  never  knew  me  to  be  dishonorable  be 
fore,  you  have  accused  me  of  perjury  and  false 
swearing  a  hundred  times,  and  you  have  re 
viewed  the  matter  with  no  other  intent  than 
to  displease  and  disgrace  me.  Is  this  no 
reason  why  I  avoid  you?  We  should  have 
been  divorced,  by  all  considerations  of  decency, 
and  I  did  not  attempt  to  take  advantage  of 
your  property  rights.  Because  we  were  once 
married,  do  you  want  the  courts  to  declare 
that  I  must  love  you,  although  constantly 
giving  me  reason  to  hate  you?  You  never 
speak  to  me  that  you  do  not  express  the  be 
lief  that  I  am  dishonorable,  unjust,  and  unfair; 
cannot  you  understand  that  it  is  impossible 
for  me  to  act  otherwise  than  I  do  ?  You 
treat  me  like  a  thief,  and  expect  me  to  act 
towards  you  as  a  lover. 

"I   know   that  among  your  acquaintances  and 


200  A   MAN  STORT. 

friends  there  are  those  who  believe  you  to  be 
in  the  wrong  at  times;  I  know  it  because 
they  have  said  as  much  to  me,  but  they  have 
never  said  it  to  you,  and  they  never  will,  for 
there  is  a  gallantry  due  women  which  the 
world  never  forgets.  This  delicate  charity  you 
have  mistaken  for  a  vindication  of  everything 
you  ever  did;  you  will  always  believe  that 
persons  who  are  really  my  friends  endorse 
everything  you  do.  No  man  feels  free  to  be 
rude  to  a  woman  unless  the  woman  is  his 
wife  or  sister,  and  I  haven't  a  friend  who 
would  care  to  controvert  anything  you  might 
say  about  me ;  but  there  never  was  a  perfect 
woman,  and  you  are  not  one;  since  you  will 
believe  nothing  I  say,  it  is  unfortunate  that 
some  one  has  not  pointed  out  errors  in  your 
course  which  you  will  one  day  acknowledge. 
You  have  often  been  heard  to  say  that  I  am 
worse  this  year  than  last;  I  will  admit  that 
I  am,  but  did  any  one  ever  hear  you  say  as  much 
of  yourself  ?  Yet  you  certainly  are ;  you  have 
attacked  me  oftener  and  with  more  severity. 


A   MAN'S   GRIEVANCE.  201 

I  do  not  intend  to  be  severe  or  unjust ;  I  am 
only  justifying  myself,  and  explaining  why  you 
harm  us  both  by  your  references  to  our  un 
fortunate  condition ;  it  is  bad  enough  as  it 
is.  Neither  of  us  can  afford  to  make  it 
worse. 

"You  pleased  me  as  a  girl,  but  an  hour  be 
fore  we  were  married  you  commenced  your 
system,  and  I  have  been  growing  steadily 
worse  ever  since.  I  don't  know  now  what 
your  system  is.  I  only  know  that  I  do  not 
like  it,  and  that  it  was  the  worst  thing  you 
could  have  done.  But  all  this  is  in  the  past; 
then  why  remind  me  of  the  tender  things  I 
once  said  to  you?  They  humiliate  me,  it  is 
true,  but  they  also  make  me  wicked  and 
hateful,  and  think  less  of  you.  Should  you 
remind  an  old  man  of  the  beauty,  and  strength, 
and  vigor  of  his  youth,  and  taunt  him  because 
of  his  age  and  weakness,  you  would  humiliate 
him,  but  by  humiliating  him  you  would  not 
cause  him  to  love  you. 

"  You   know   as   well   as  you  know  that  you 


202  A  MAN  STORY. 

are  living  that  the  divorce  proceeding  was  in 
spired  because  of  the  certainty  that  we  would 
never  live  together ;  you  know  that  it  was  not 
my  fault  that  you  did  not  receive  notice  of  it ; 
you  know  I  believed  you  had  agreed  to  it,  for 
there  was  no  reason  why  you  should  not,  and 
you  have  revived  the  matter  simply  to  humil 
iate  and  disgrace  me,  for  I  have  not  attempted 
to  take  any  advantage  of  your  property  rights, 
and  you  must  know  that  I  will  never  live 
with  you.  You  ask  what  you  have  done  to 
cause  my  dread  of  you ;  you  have  done  every 
thing  you  should  not ;  you  have  tried  to  make 
me  the  fiend  you  have  always  believed  me  to 
be.  Your  ambition  has  been  to  send  me  to 
hell  because  I  preferred  heaven,  and  wanted  to 
live  as  a  decent  man  should." 

Uncle  Tom  had  worked  himself  into  a  sort 
of  desperation,  and  tried  to  leave  the  room, 
certainly  with  a  view  of  getting  away  and 
avoiding  further  talk  in  his  bad  frame  of 
mind,  but  Mrs.  Barnaby  stepped  in  front  of 
him,  and  barred  the  door. 


A   MAN'S    GRIEVANCE.  203 

"Who  is  this  boy?"  she  said,  pointing  her 
trembling  hand  at  me. 

"  Ask  him ;  he  will  tell  you,"  Uncle  Tom 
replied. 

"I  have  asked  him,  and  in  reply  he  has 
become  confused  and  refused  to  speak  further. 
There  is  a  secret  between  you.  What  is  it? 

"His  refusal  to  speak  is  not  an  instruction 
from  me.  I  left  him  alone  with  you,  know 
ing  you  would  question  him,  for  you  were 
always  suspicious  of  me.  I  made  no  request 
that  he  hide  anything  he  might  know  of  me. 
Is  that  not  true?" 

He  turned  toward  me,  and  I  nodded  my 
head  with  as  much  earnestness  as  I  could 
command. 

"  You  may  tell  her  all  you  know  of  me," 
he  continued,  in  his  strange,  excited  manner. 
"She  believes  me  to  be  a  scoundrel,  but  I 
am  an  honest  man.  Speak;  answer  her  ques 
tions." 

I  believed  this  to  be  an  act  of  bravado,  and 
made  up  my  mind  to  remain  silent.  But 


204  A    MAN  STORY. 

Mrs.  Barnaby  was  awed  by  Uncle  Tom's 
strange  excitement,  and  was  silent  too. 

"I  am  not  in  the  habit  of  telling  you  of 
my  affairs,"  he  said,  after  waiting  a  while, 
"because  you  have  no  interest  in  them,  and 
because  you  believe  that  whatever  I  say  is 
false;  but  to  avoid  your  usual  inquiries  in 
other  quarters,  ask  me  any  question  you  see 
fit,  and  I  will  answer;  and  I  will  convince 
you  that  my  answers  are  true." 

Mrs.  Barnaby  saw,  as  I  did,  that  Uncle 
Tom  was  desperate ;  she  realized,  as  I  did, 
that  there  was  nothing  he  would  keep  back, 
and  hesitated  before  asking  the  question  often- 
est  in  her  mind. 

"Who  is  the  member  of  this  boy's  fami 
ly  he  refers  to  as  Mrs.  Tom?"  she  asked 
with  difficulty,  steadying  herself  against  the 
mantel. 

Without  the  slightest  hesitancy  Uncle  Tom 
replied :  — 

"  The  dearest  and  best  woman  in  the  world ; 
the  woman  I  love  as  sincerely  as  I  hate  you; 


A  MAN'S   GRIEVANCE.  205 

the  woman  whose  love  repays  me  for  all  your 
hate :  my  honorable  wife." 

Mrs.  Barnaby  started  at  this  announcement, 
but  only  a  little,  and  walked  steadily  over  to 
the  door,  as  if  she  would  leave  the  room. 
She  stood  facing  the  door  for  several  minutes, 
trying  to  control  herself,  and  when  she  turned 
upon  us  again  there  was  an  intense  hatred  in 
her  eyes  as  well  as  tears,  and  shame,  and 
humiliation. 

"If  I  regard  you  in  the  future,"  she  said, 
"  with  contempt,  hate,  and  distrust,  it  is  be 
cause  you  have  deserved  it,  and  confess  it  to 
me.  I  want  to  see  this  woman." 

"You  shall  see  her,"  he  replied;  "you  and 
I  are  not  in  the  habit  of  journeying  together, 
but  to-morrow  morning  at  seven  o'clock  we 
will  leave  for  Fog  Lake.  I  want  you  to  see 
a  woman  who  is  as  enthusiastic  over  me  as 
you  are,  but  whose  enthusiasm  takes  the  form 
of  admiration.  Prepare  yourself  for  the  jour 
ney;  a  carriage  will  call  for  you  at  a  quarter 
to  seven." 


206  A   MAN  STORY. 

I  expected  a  scene,  for  they  were  both 
wrought  up  to  an  intense  excitement,  but  Mrs. 
Barnaby  turned  to  go  at  once,  and  paused 
with  her  face  to  the  door. 

"Nothing  will  satisfy  you  but  a  course  that 
will  humiliate  and  disgrace  us  all,"  he  said, 
"and  I  will  join  you  in  it.  For  years  I  havt 
urged  peace,  in  spite  of  hate,  but,  since  this 
does  not  suit  you,  we  will  make  the  affair 
everything  you  desire." 

Mrs.  Barnaby  still  stood  close  to  the  door 
with  her  back  to  us,  and  I  thought  from  the 
manner  in  which  she  was  clutching  her  hands 
together  that  she  was  making  a  strong  effort 
to  keep  from  crying;  once  I  saw  her  quickly 
and  impatiently  wipe  her  eyes,  but  her  agita 
tion  seemed  beyond  control,  for,  when  it  was 
evident  that  she  could  no  longer  hide  it,  she 
hastily  left  the  room,  and  quickly  went  up 
the  stairs  to  her  own  apartments. 

Uncle  Tom  soon  walked  out  of  the  house, 
and  I  followed,  afraid  to  remain  alone. 

Arriving  at   the  store,  he  admitted  himself  at 


A  MAN'S   GRTE  VANCE.  207 

the  door,  and  went  to  work  at  his  desk,  pre 
paring  instructions  to  Mr.  Barnaby,  made  neces 
sary  because  of  his  absence.  It  was  after 
midnight,  but  when  he  asked  me  to  go  back 
to  his  rooms  after  something  he  had  forgotten, 
I  hurried  away,  although  I  dreaded  to  enter 
the  door. 

The  light  was  burning  as  we  had  left  it, 
and  on  going  into  the  back  room  after  the 
travelling-bag  I  had  been  requested  to  bring, 
I  saw  Mrs.  Barnaby  lying  motionless  on  the 
bed.  I  hurried  away,  and  found  Uncle  Tom 
writing  rapidly  and  eagerly,  as  before. 

I  went  to  sleep  in  my  chair  and  dreamed 
that  I  had  married  the  witch  of  the  Brooper 
Woods,  and  that  she  and  her  seven  daughters 
were  accusing  me  of  unfaithfulness  to  them. 
All  the  phantoms  that  floated  through  my  dreams 
were  either  fiercely  angry  or  pitifully  sorrowful, 
and  all  those  I  had  ever  known  in  my  waking 
hours  were  present.  When  I  was  awakened 
by  a  rough  hand,  I  thought  the  trouble  so  dis 
tinctly  outlined  in  my  dreams  had  commenced, 


208  A   MAN  STORY. 

and  that  Uncle  Tom  was  about  to  accuse  me 
of  being  responsible  for  it  all,  for  he  was 
standing  before  me,  and  shaking  me,  and 
although  he  almost  dragged  me  out  at  the 
door,  I  did  not  realize  until  we  were  in  the 
carriage  that  the  trouble  had  not  yet  really 
commenced,  and  that  we  were  on  the  way  to 
Fog  Lake. 


THE   BROOPER    WOODS.  209 


CHAPTER    XVII. 

THE    BEOOPEE    WOODS. 

MES.  BAENABY  was  already  at  the  station 
when  we  arrived  there,  walking  nervously  about 
the  platform,  and,  although  she  had  evidently 
been  waiting  for  us,  she  pretended  not  to 
notice  our  arrival,  and  when  we  came  through 
the  arch  of  the  building  from  the  street,  and 
sat  down  in  the  chair  car  of  the  train,  Mrs. 
Barnaby  soon  after  followed,  seating  herself  on 
the  side  opposite  to  us,  and  I  saw  hard  lines 
in  her  face  which  betokened  an  exciting 
journey. 

Uncle  Tom  was  impatient  and  reckless  in 
his  manner,  too,  and  somehow  I  thought  of  the 
two  as  going  away  to  find  a  quiet  place  to 
fight  until  one  or  the  other  was  killed.  This 
was  suggested,  no  doubt,  by  my  belief  that 
Uncle  Tom  would  become  very  vicious  should 


210  A   MAN  STORY. 

the  slightest  indignity  be  offered  to  Mrs.  Tom, 
and  when  I  thought  of  the  time  when  we 
should  arrive  in  Fog  Lake  I  could  not  help 
trembling. 

I  went  to  sleep  before  the  train  left  the 
station,  because  of  the  hard  night  I  had  just 
passed,  and  when  I  awoke  we  were  hurrying 
through  the  country.  Uncle  Tom  and  Mrs. 
Barnaby  occupied  their  former  positions  on 
opposite  sides  of  the  car,  and  were  looking  out 
of  the  windows ;  I  watched  them  a  long  time 
in  a  lazy,  indolent,  sleepy  sort  of  way,  from 
my  position  behind  them,  and  it  seemed  to 
me  that  I  was  accompanying  two  acquaintances 
on  their  way  to  an  execution.  When  there 
was  a  sharp  turn  in  the  track  over  which  we 
were  travelling,  I  could  see  the  engineer  lean 
ing  out  of  the  cab,  and  looking  ahead,  and  I 
thought  of  him  as  the  executioner,  watching 
anxiously  for  the  gibbet  where  he  was  to  stop; 
and  hurrying,  to  rid  himself  as  soon  as  possi 
ble  of  his  disagreeable  duty.  Uncle  Tom  and 
Mrs.  Barnaby  were  so  silent  and  gloomy,  and 


THE   B ROOFER    WOODS.  211 

looked  out  so  steadily,  that  I  thought  they 
were  looking  for  the  gibbet,  too,  and  were 
anxious  for  the  ceremony  to  be  over. 

When  we  stopped  for  dinner  I  noticed  that 
Mrs.  Barnaby  secretly  watched  Uncle  Tom,  as 
though  she  feared  he  would  try  to  escape  her. 
He  noticed  it,  too,  and  I  thought  of  his  state 
ment  that  she  never  believed  anything  he  told 
her,  although  he  always  told  her  the  truth. 
He  had  proposed  the  journey,  and  there  was 
nothing  to  indicate  that  he  had  any  notion  of 
deceiving  Mrs.  Barnaby;  but  she,  nevertheless, 
followed  his  movements  with  the  quiet  scrutiny 
that  an  officer  might  give  a  prisoner  in  his 
charge,  and  this  increased  his  impatience  and 
bad  humor. 

After  the  sun  went  down,  and  the  shadows 
began  to  collect  in  the  valleys  where  the  road 
ran,  Mrs.  Barnaby  watched  him  more  openly, 
and  once  followed  him  into  another  car,  where 
he  went  to  smoke.  This  annoyed  him  so  much 
that  I  expected  him  to  resent  her  action,  and 
make  a  scene ;  but  he  did  not,  though  he 


212  A   MAN  STORY. 

afterwards  seemed  to  take  delight  in  arousing 
her  suspicions,  for  several  times  he  left  the  train 
when  it  stopped  at  the  stations,  and  climbed 
on  again  at  the  last  moment,  Mrs.  Barnaby  all 
the  time  watching  him  with  the  closest  scrutiny. 

When  we  reached  the  little  station  -within 
four  miles  of  Fog  Lake,  where  I  had  taken 
the  train  for  the  City,  Uncle  Tom  stepped  off 
on  the  platform,  without  any  definite  purpose, 
as  I  did,  and  Mrs.  Barnaby's  frantic  haste  in 
following  caused  him  to  walk  briskly  down  the 
road  into  the  Brooper  Woods,  in  a  fit  of 
stubbornness  and  resentment. 

For  the  first  half  mile  he  kept  up  a  swing 
ing  pace  which  greatly  tired  Mrs.  Barnaby,  who 
walked  along  directly  behind  us,  but  he 
finally  accommodated  his  pace  to  hers.  The 
night  was  dark,  and  the  road  through  the 
woods  rough,  and,  after  we  had  walked  a  mile  or 
more,  Mrs.  Barnaby  gave  such  evidences  of 
exhaustion  that  we  stopped  to  give  her  an 
opportunity  to  rest.  She  was  constantly  giv 
ing  utterance  to  her  indignation,  which  tired 


THE   B ROOFER    WOODS.  213 

her  still  further,  and  this  she  kept  up  when 
we  stopped  to  rest.  He  was  fickle,  cruel,  un 
faithful,  and  dishonorable,  she  said ;  he  was 
everything  that  he  should  not  be ;  but  Uncle 
Tom  made  no  reply,  occupying  himself  in 
chewing  twigs  gathered  from  the  side  of  the 
road.  Once  when  he  was  seated  on  a  log  be 
side  the  road,  and  his  wife  was  standing  before 
him  upbraiding  him  in  the  old  fashion,  she 
accused  him  of  thinking  of  murdering  her, 
although  he  had  really  stopped  to  give  her 
opportunity  to  rest,  and  I  knew  there  was 
nothing  on  his  mind  except  wonder  as  to  how 
Mrs.  Tom  would  receive  them.  I  felt  that  he 
was  going  to  her  for  guidance,  accompanied 
by  all  in  his  life  that  was  unpleasant,  and  I 
believe  he  felt  that  Mrs.  Tom  would  say  or 
do  something  that  would  comfort  him. 

There  was  a  whispering  among  the  upper 
branches  of  the  great  trees  bordering  the  road, 
and  I  thought  the  trees  were  telling  each 
other  of  the  strange  pair  walking  toward  Fog 
Lake ;  but  they  were  not  long  in  suspense, 


214  A   MAN  STORY. 

for  Mrs.  Barnaby  was  not  silent  a  moment ; 
at  every  step  she  upbraided  her  husband.  He 
said  very  little,  and  did  not  attempt  to  explain 
his  action  in  leaving  the  train,  or  the  walk 
through  the  woods;  but  in  answer  to  her 
statement  that  she  believed  he  intended  to 
murder  her,  he  said  that  the  thought  was  not 
in  his  mind,  though  it  had  occurred  to  him 
that  if  Mrs.  Barnaby  was  his  equal  in  strength 
he  would  like  to  fight  her  until  one  or  the 
other  was  dead.  Mrs.  Barnaby  laughed  at 
this,  calling  him  a  coward,  and  saying  that  he 
would  not  think  of  it  were  she  his  physical 
equal,  fearing  the  proposition  would  be  accepted. 
In  spite  of  this  bitter  speech,  Uncle  Tom 
made  no  further  reply  than  to  say  he  was 
anxious  for  Mrs.  Barnaby  to  go  to  Fog  Lake ; 
he  wanted  her  to  see  a  woman;  a  woman  a 
man  could  love  and  die  for ;  a  woman  a 
man  could  love  and  not  be  ashamed  of  it. 

Mrs.  Barnaby  made  some  contemptuous  reply, 
intimating  that  Uncle  Tom's  love  for  Mrs. 
Tom  was  a  thing  to  be  laughed  at,  and  that 


THE   B ROOFER    WOODS.  215 

he  was  not  sincere  ;  that  he  was  never  sin 
cere  in  his  life.  Whenever  we  stopped  to 
rest,  Mrs.  Barnaby  insisted  upon  standing  near 
him ;  whenever  we  walked  on,  she  insisted 
upon  walking  beside  him,  and  Uncle  Tom  was 
always  cringing  and  trying  to  get  away  from 
her. 

We  finally  came  to  where  Joe  Tack  had 
his  mill,  and  Uncle  Tom  and  I  sat  down  on 
a  log  beside  the  road  to  give  Mrs.  Barnaby 
another  opportunity  to  rest;  but  she  would 
not  accept  of  the  favor,  continuing  to  up 
braid  her  husband  for  his  unfaithfulness  and 
dishonor.  When  we  sat  down  there  was  no 
light  in  the  rude  house  where  Joe  lived,  but 
while  she  was  talking,  one  appeared  at  the 
window.  When  she  turned  and  saw  it,  the 
thought  seemed  to  enter  her  mind  that  we 
had  stopped  at  that  particular  place  because 
we  were  in  front  of  the  house  where  Mrs. 
Tom  lived,  and  were  afraid  to  go  in,  for  she 
turned  and  walked  rapidly  toward  the  light, 
panting  for  breath  as  she  went.  I  followed  her 


216  A  MAN  STORY. 

and  saw  the  contemptuous  and  silent  look 
with  which  she  regarded  Joe,  who  had  evi 
dently  been  writing  a  letter,  for  there  was 
writing  material  on  the  table,  and  as  he 
walked  around  in  astonishment  I  saw  there 
was  ink  on  his  hammer  sores.  Mrs.  Barnaby 
was  convinced  by  a  single  look  around  the 
house,  which  was  a  rude  affair,  that  no 
woman  lived  there,  and  went  out  again,  and 
while  Joe  was  looking  after  her,  something 
led  my  eyes  to  the  writing  material  on  the 
table.  It  was  of  the  prize-package  variety, 
and  there  was  no  doubt  in  my  mind  that 
when  we  came  in  he  had  been  engaged  in 
writing  himself  a  spirit  letter  from  his  first 
wife.  It  was  not  a  nice  thing  to  do,  but 
I  looked  at  the  writing,  and  saw  that  it 
began  with  "  Dear  Joe  —  When  you  gave  Her 

a ."     I    did    not    see     any   further,    but     I 

concluded  that  Joe  had  been  giving  his  ugly 
wufe  another  present. 

The    strange   visitor  interested    Joe   so   much 
that    he    put     the    letter    in    his     pocket,   and 


TEE   B ROOFER    WOODS.  217 

began  looking  for  his  hat,  and  I  believed 
that  he  would  follow;  indeed,  I  think  he 
slipped  through  the  woods  behind  us,  and 
heard  much  that  was  said. 

When  I  returned  to  the  road,  Mrs.  Barnaby 
was  reviling  the  idea  that  Uncle  Tom  ever 

o 

loved   any   one,  or   could  love   any   one. 

"  I  love  her  as  much  as  I  hate  you,"  he 
answered  rather  roughly ;  "  you  ought  to  know 
how  sincere  I  am  in  hating  you.  Her  con 
fidence  in  me  is  as  great  as  your  lack  of  it, 
and  when  you  see  her  you  will  learn  how 
good  husbands  are  made ;  I  have  tried  to 
deserve  her  love,  as  I  have  tried  to  deserve 
your  hatred.  She  has  always  made  me  better; 
you  have  always  made  me  worse.  I  never 
felt  so  much  like  a  fiend  in  my  life  as  I 
do  this  moment,  because  of  your  being  in  my 
company.  When  we  come  into  her  presence 
I  want  you  to  tell  her  everything  that  you 
believe  or  know  to  my  discredit;  I  shall  not 
say  a  word,  but  when  you  have  concluded  I 
shall  ask  her  to  come  to  me,  if  she  does  not 


218  A  MAN  STORY. 

believe  a  word  you  have  said.  She  will 
come  to  me,  and  be  content  with  no  other 
explanation;  but  because  of  her  trust  in  me, 
I  shall  prove  that  everything  stated  by  you 
is  untrue.  I  shall  convince  her  of  it  by 
proofs,  that  she  may  know  that  I  deserve 
the  confidence  she  reposes  in  me.  Much  as  I 
want  her  to  trust  in  me,  I  shall  never  per 
mit  her  to  believe  that  of  me  which  is  not 
true.  You,  the  worst  enemy  I  have  in  the 
world,  know  that  I  can  disprove  everything 
you  ever  said  to  my  discredit;  I  have  dis 
proved  it  to  you,  but  your  hatred  for  me  is 
so  intense  that  you  forget,  and  repeat  charges 
which  only  cause  me  to  dread  your  presence. 
You  are  responsible  for  the  feeling  which 
causes  me  to  cross  the  road  when  you  come 
near  me  ;  you  have  had  but  one  ambition  in 
life,  since  our  marriage,  and  that  was  to 
cause  me  to  hate  you ;  you  have  succeeded 
so  well  that  I  wonder  you  are  not  generous 
enough  to  let  me  alone." 


THE   B ROOFER    WOODS.  219 

Uncle  Tom  arose  from  his  seat,  and  started 
on  again,  taking  off  his  hat  to  cool  his  head. 

"The  only  proof  you  have  ever  given  me 
that  you  are  an  honorable  man,"  Mrs.  Bar- 
naby  answered,  crowding  and  stumbling  after 
him,  "is  the  fine  speeches  you  make,  and  you 
hate  me  because  I  do  not  accept  whatever  you 
see  fit  to  say  to  your  credit,  although  I  know 
what  you  say  is  not  true.  But  you  shall  see 
that  this  pretty  baby  you  have  deceived  will 
denounce  you  as  I  have  done ;  she  will  pun 
ish  you  as  you  have  punished  me.  She  will 
avenge  me ! " 

"I  never  boasted  before  in  my  life,"  Uncle 
Tom  said,  stepping  out  of  the  road  when 
Mrs.  B.  came  toward  him,  "and  you  know  it, 
although  you  are  thinking  that  I  am  telling 
a  falsehood,  but  I  boast  now  of  the  confi 
dence  Mrs.  Tom  has  in  me.  And  because  she 
has  confidence  in  me,  I  shall  make  her  as 
happy  as  I  have  made  you  unhappy.  She 
never  inspired  a  feeling  in  me  that  was  not 
good.  You  never  inspired  a  thought  in  me 


220  A   MAN  STORY.     • 

that  was  not  disgraceful  to  my  manhood,  and 
you  have  had  your  reward;  I  swear  that  Mrs. 
Tom  shall  have  hers.  How  do  you  account 
for  ifr  that  the  Tom  Saulsbury  whom  you  re 
gard  as  a  fiend  is  esteemed  by  others?  Is 
not  this  evidence  that  your  estimate  of  him 
is  wrong  ?  " 

"No,"  she  answered.  "They  do  not  know 
you  as  I  do;  you  have  deceived  them." 

This  reply  caused  Uncle  Tom  to  press  on 
again,  to  avoid  showing  his  gathering  anger,  and 
Mrs.  Barnaby  hastily  followed,  as  though  she 
feared  he  would  soon  bolt  off  into  the  woods. 

"You  are  making  this  miserable  journey 
with  no  other  object  in  view  than  to  wound 
me,"  he  resumed,  with  more  calmness,  "for 
you  know  that  I  would  sooner  kill  myself 
than  even  try  to  be  agreeable  with  you ;  your 
whole  life  has  been  in  the  same  strain  so  far 
as  I  am  concerned,  and  your  last  hope  is  to 
ruin  me,  yet  you  have  always  been  asking 
why  I  have  ceased  to  respect  you.  If  I  should 
forgive  you,  it  would  be  more  unnatural  than 


THE   BROOPER    WOODS.  221 

that  I  dread  you  as  I  do ;  if  I  stood  on  the 
gallows,  and  a  kind  word  to  you  would  save 
me,  I  should  not  speak.  I  should  prefer 
going  into  eternity  feeling  as  I  do,  for  it 
would  not  be  against  me  anywhere  that  I 
could  not  respect  a  woman  who  has  used  all 
the  talents  God  gave  her  to  wound  and  hurt 
me.  It  should  be  the  mission  of  a.  woman  to 
shed  tears  over  the  faults  of  her  husband 
when  she  can  no  longer  avoid  seeing  them, 
and  make  him  better,  but  because  you  have 
taunted  me  so  much,  I  declare  what  you 
should  have  declared,  and  it  is  no  more  than 
the  truth;  I  am  an  honorable  man,  and  a  man 
who  believes  in  doing  right,  but  you  have  ex 
aggerated  my  faults  until  I  wonder  I  am  as 
good  as  I  am.  There  is  good  in  me,  but  you 
have  refused  to  see  it,  and  studied  me  only 
to  find  that  which  is  bad,  and  taunt  me  with 
it.  You  regard  me  as  a  scoundrel  because  of 
an  act  as  natural  as  though  I  had  eaten  when 
hungry,  and  given  notice  to  the  world  that  I 
had  paid  for  my  dinner.  You  wonder  why  I 


222  A   MAN  STORY. 

lack  respect  for  you,  yet  you  know  I  could 
no  more  respect  you  than  I  could  respect  a 
man  who  had  a  temporary  advantage  of  me, 
and  whipped  me  without  mercy." 

Uncle  Tom  noticed  that  Mrs.  Barnaby  was 
crying,  and  that,  as  she  put  her  hands  to  her 
eyes  to  wipe  away  her  tears,  she  stumbled  and 
almost  fell.  She  said  at  once  that  she  was 
not  crying  because  anything  he  said  was  true  ; 
rather  because  she  was  cruelly  wronged ;  but, 
in  spite  of  this  speech,  he  softened  at  once. 

"  I  only  tell  you  why  I  am  lacking  in  re 
spect  for  you  because  you  have  so  often  asked 
me,"  he  said.  "  You  need  not  answer  me, 
but  decide  in  your  own  mind  if  I  am  not  for 
this  once  telling  the  truth.  You  have  cruelly 
upbraided  me  a  hundred  times  when  I  have 
remained  silent;  you  have  said  more  and 
meaner  things  to  me  than  I  ever  said  to  you. 
Long  ago  I  explained  everything  to  you  as 
kindly  as  I  could,  because  I  felt  that  I  was 
so  unjustly  accused  that  I  was  entitled  to  an 
explanation ;  but  you  never  talked  to  me  in 


THE   B ROOFER    WOODS.  223 

the  same  spirit.  You  have  refused  to  be  as 
charitable  with  me  as  I  have  been  with  you. 
Because  you  do  not  please  me,  you  regard 
me  as  dishonest,  although  you  know  I  am  re 
spected  by  my  other  acquaintances.  I  have 
never  accused  you  of  anything  save  that  you 
make  me  unhappy,  but  you  accuse  me  of 
fickleness  and  dishonor.  Is  this  not  true?" 

She  made  no  answer  further  than  to  say  that 
it  was  another  of  his  fine  speeches,  and  we 
walked  along  in  silence  until  the  outlines  of 
the  towns  could  be  dimly  seen. 

There  was  no  pause,  but  both  walked  briskly 
forward,  as  though  both  were  confident  of 
vindication  and  comfort  at  the  hands  of  Mrs. 
Tom.  Indeed,  they  walked  more  rapidly  when 
Fog  Lake  could  be  seen  in  indistinct,  uncer 
tain  outlines,  like  the  ghost  of  a  town,  as 
though  each  one  was  anxious  to  get  there  first, 
and  rudely  awaken  Mrs.  Tom  from  her  pleas 
ant  dreams  of  peace. 


224  A   MAN  STORY. 


CHAPTER    XVIII. 

AN    IDOL    LEAVES    THE    SANCTUARY. 

NOT  a  word  was  spoken  as  we  walked 
rapidly  through  the  town,  and  when  we 
reached  the  house  we  ascended  the  stairs  to 
gether,  the  outside  door  being  open.  Uncle 
Tom  rapped  loudly  and  confidently  on  the 
door,  and  the  summons  was  answered,  after  a 
long  delay,  by  the  Boomer,  who  only  showed 
his  head. 

"  I  want  to  see  Mrs.  Tom,"  Uncle  Tom 
said  simply,  but  there  was  that  in  his  voice 
which  convinced  me  that  he  believed  that  he 
would  soon  be  vindicated;  he  acted  like  a  man 
who  regarded  his  cause  so  just  that  no  fair 
person  could  doubt  after  hearing  his  explana 
tion. 

"  And  I  want  to  see  her,"  Mrs.  Barnaby 
said,  crowding  forward.  "  I  am  this  gentleman's 


AN  IDOL  LEAVES   THE  SANCTUARY.        225 

wife,  and  I  want  to  see  the  person  who  divides 
the  questionable  honor  with  me." 

The  Boomer  disappeared,  muttering  his  sur 
prise  at  seeing  us,  but  leaving  the  door  open, 
and  we  went  into  the  front  room,  and  sat 
down,  after  making  a  light.  I  saw  by  the 
clock  then  that  it  was  two  o'clock  in  the 
morning,  and  from  various  sounds  about  the 
house  I  knew  the  members  of  the  family 
were  getting  up.  My  mother  first  appeared, 
and  after  greeting  me  somewhat  awkwardly, 
she  looked  inquiringly  at  Uncle  Tom,  and 
then  at  Mrs.  Barnaby. 

"I  want  to  see  Mrs.  Tom,"  he  said  again. 
"Will  you  be  good  enough  to  inform  har 
that  I  am  here?" 

"Also  be  kind  enough  to  inform  her  that 
I  am  here,"  Mrs.  Barnaby  said.  "  I  am  his 
wife ;  say  to  this  person  he  refers  to  as 
Mrs.  Tom,  that  Mr.  Tom  is  a  dishonorable 
man,  and  that  I  am  here  to  prove  it." 

Uncle  Tom  looked  at  Mrs.  Barnaby  with 
the  quick  fierceness  which  distinguishes  an 


226  A   MAN   STORY. 

animal  the  instant  before  it  springs ;  but  he 
soon  recovered  himself,  and  did  not  speak. 
My  mother  left  the  room  in  the  greatest 
agitation,  and  Number  One  soon  came  into 
the  room,  and  sat  down,  imagining,  I  have 
no  doubt,  that  there  was  an  emergency,  and 
that  he  was  needed,  though  I  think  his  first 
impression  was  that  I  had  been  brought  home 
under  arrest,  and  that  it  was  his  duty  to  go 
in  and  testify  to  my  former  bad  character. 

I  saw  Number  Two  at  the  half-open  door, 
looking  timidly  at  Mrs.  Barnaby,  and  felt 
that  Uncle  Tom  would  invite  him  in,  should 
he  see  him;  but  either  he  had  lost  his  old 
politeness,  or  did  not  see  Number  Two,  for 
he  did  not  change  his  position. 

There  was  a  painfully  long  delay,  during 
which  I  could  hear  my  mother  occasionally 
walking  hurriedly  about,  and  once  I  thought 
I  heard  a  pitiful  sob,  when  it  occurred  to 
me  that  Mrs.  Tom  had  fainted  on  receipt  of 
the  news,  and  that  my  mother's  hurrying  had 
been  after  restoratives.  At  last  my  mother 


AN  IDOL  LEAVES   THE  SANCTUARY.        227 

came  back  into  the  room,  and  sat  down, 
looking  more  uncomfortable  than  I  had  ever 
seen  her  before,  and  in  answer  to  Uncle 
Tom's  look  of  inquiry,  she  said,  "  She  refuses 
to  see  you." 

Uncle  Tom  gave  a  start  which  might  have 
excited  pity  from  Mrs.  Barnaby,  much  as  she 
hated  him,  but  it  did  not,  for  she  laughed 
in  a  loud,  triumphant  way,  and  said  to  him, 
in  a  voice  so  wicked  that  it  surprised  me :  — 

"  Who  was  the  better  prophet  ?  You  said 
other  people  had  confidence  in  you,  and  that 
I  wronged  you  because  I  had  none." 

She  spoke  in  a  rapid,  greedy,  half-hysteri 
cal  way,  and  acted  as  though  she  would  go 
over  to  Uncle  Tom,  and  make  him  look  at 
the  joy  with  which  she  greeted  his  humilia 
tion;  but  she  did  not  (it  would  have  been 
dangerous,  I  think),  though  she  continued  to 
gloat  over  his  downfall. 

"  You  have  always  upbraided  me  because  I 
did  not  accept  your  fine  speeches  without  a 
doubt.  I  have  investigated  one  of  them,  and 


228  A   MAN  STORY. 

I  find  you  were  wrong.  Even  though  you 
believed  all  you  said  in  your  favor,  I  am 
now  certain  that  they  had  as  little  foundation 
as  your  boast  that  Mrs.  Tom  would  believe 
nothing  I  said,  but  would  have  confidence  in 
you  in  spite  of  my  accusations." 

The  manner  in  which  Uncle  Tom  bowed  his 
head  on  the  table  was  pitiful,  and  I  believed 
he  was  struggling  to  keep  from  sobbing.  He 
did  not  seem  to  hear  anything  that  Mrs.  Bar- 
naby  was  saying;  the  refusal  of  Mrs.  Tom  to 
see  him  evidently  occupied  his  mind,  and  it 
hurt  him  so  much  that  his  face  wore  the  ex 
pression  of  a  man  about  to  be  hanged,  with 
out  a  pitying  face  in  the  crowd.  When  he 
raised  his  face  again,  and  turned  toward  my 
mother,  he  looked  as  though  he  had  been 
whipped  and  beaten  by  superior  numbers,  and 
could  not  be  revenged,  though  I  noticed  that 
the  old  fierce  look  came  back  for  an  instant 
when  he  saw  the "  joy  of  Mrs.  Barnaby. 

"I  wish  you  would  say  to  Mrs.  Tom  once 
more,"  he  said  in  a  trembling  voice,  "that  I  am 


AN  IDOL  LEAVES   THE  SANCTUARY.        229 

in  trouble,  and  wish  to  see  her.  I  have  some 
thing  important  to  say,  and  she  should  hear 
it.  It  is  of  the  greatest  importance  that  I 
see  her." 

My  mother  went  out  again,  followed  by  her 
father,  and  while  we  were  waiting  Number 
Two  came  softly  into  the  room.  Approaching 
Uncle  Tom,  he  gently  stroked  the  hand  which 
was  lying  outstretched  on  the  table,  his  face 
being  buried  in  the  other.  Number  Two 
seemed  to  have  confidence  in  Uncle  Tom, 
without  question,  as  I  had,  and  his  action  was 
so  gentle  that  Uncle  Tom  looked  up  quickly, 
thinking  it  was  Mrs.  Tom;  but  at  this  moment 
my  mother  came  in  shaking  her  head. 

"  You  have  accused  me  of  a  lack  of  confi 
dence  in  you,"  Mrs.  Barnaby  said  triumphantly, 
as  Uncle  Tom  crouched  down  in  his  chair, 
"  and  felt  bitterly  toward  me  because  you 
were  right  when  you  were  wrong.  How  you 
have  abused  me  in  your  thoughts  because  I 
did  not  believe  in  you  as  Mrs.  Tom  did! 
How  comforted  you  were  to  imagine  that  you 


230  A   MAN  STORY. 

had  found  some  one  at  last  to  call  your  black 
birds  doves !  Every  theory  you  ever  had 
concerning  me,  and  they  have  all  been  unfavor 
able,  was  based  on  the  idea  that  I  was  unjust 
because  I  was  honest ;  that  I  was  unwomanly 
because  I  had  too  much  intelligence  to  believe 
in  you  when  you  did  not  deserve  it. 

"You  wanted  me  to  have  the  blind  faith  in 
you  that  you  believed  this  injured  girl  had, 
and  now  that  you  know  that  she  had  none  in 
you,  perhaps  you  will  be  more  charitable  with 
me." 

Mrs.  Barnaby  seemed  anxious  to  convince 
Uncle  Tom  that  she  did  not  deserve  the  con 
tempt  with  which  he  had  always  treated  her. 
She  reviewed  their  life  as  I  had  heard  her 
do  before,  in  the  City,  and  although  she 
claimed  that  she  was  always  right,  arid  Uncle 
Tom  always  wrong,  there  was  a  persuasive 
gentleness  in  her  voice  I  had  never  noticed 
before.  I  thought  she  believed  that  in  his 
humiliation  he  would  acknowledge  everything 
she  said,  and  become  her  willing  slave  in 


AN  IDOL   LEAVES   THE  SANCTUARY.       231 

future.  I  almost  believed  this,  too,  he  seemed 
so  changed;  and  as  she  talked,  softening  more 
and  more,  I  watched  the  door,  for  I  thought 
that  Mrs.  Tom  might  change  her  mind,  and 
come  into  the  room.  But  Uncle  Tom  evi 
dently  did  not  hear  anything  Mrs.  Barnaby 
was  saying:  he  was  thinking  of  his  broken 
idol,  and  of  his  future  without  it,  for  finally 
he  said :  — 

"If  I  will  agree  to  leave  the  City,  and 
everything  I  have  there,  will  you  be  satisfied? 
You  may  be  sure  I  .will  never  come  back 
here." 

There  was  as  much  bitterness  in  his  voice 
when  he  said  he  would  never  come  back  to 
Fog  Lake  as  I  had  noticed  when  hearing  him 
express  his  hatred  of  Mrs.  Barnaby;  so  much, 
indeed,  that  I  was  glad  Mrs.  Tom  had  not 
heard  it,  and  could  never  be  told  of  it;  there 
was  something  in  it  that  no  one  could  de 
scribe. 

Mrs.  Barnaby  was  surprised  at  the  cold,  in 
different  manner  in  which  he  said  this,  as  if 


232  A   MAN  STORY. 

she  had  been  expecting  a  different  answer,  and 
she  could  only  murmur  that  she  did  not  want 
him  to  leave  the  City,  or  his  interests  there ; 
that  she  wanted  nothing  of  him  that  was  not 
fair. 

"  But  I  intend  to  leave  the  City,  whether  it 
pleases  you  or  not.  Will  that  satisfy  you?" 

Her  old  spirit  returned  because  of  his  sullen 
indifference  to  her  apparent  fairness,  and  she 
answered  yes,  she  would  be  satisfied. 

Writing  materials  were  at  once  procured  at 
his  suggestion,  and  Uncle  Tom  hurriedly  wrote 
a  fe\v  lines,  and  signed  his  name  to  them. 
After  Mrs.  Barnaby  had  examined  the  writing, 
and  approved  it,  she  asked  two  of  the  others 
to  sign  it  as  witnesses,  which  they  did,  and, 
as  she  placed  the  paper  in  her  pocket,  Uncle 
Tom  arose  unsteadily  from  his  chair,  and 
walked  out  of  the  room;  after  saying  to  my 
mother  that  she  felt  more  kindly  toward  Mrs. 
Tom  because,  of  her  honorable  course,  Mrs. 
Barnaby  came  down  the  stairs,  and  walked  a 
few  paces  behind  us,  for  I  had  accompanied 


AN  IDOL  LEAVES   THE  SANCTUARY.        233 

him.  On  our  way  to  the  depot,  for  a  train 
was  due  within  an  hour,  Uncle  Tom  explained 
that  he  desired  that  I  accompany  Mrs.  Bar- 
naby  back  to  the  City,  and  that  he  would  pay 
my  expenses. 

Arriving  at  'the  depot,  which  was  dark,  we 
walked,  around  on  the  platform,  Mrs.  Barnaby 
in  one  way  and  Uncle  Tom  in  another.  Not 
a  word  was  spoken  until  the  agent  arrived, 
and  made  a  light,  and  when  this  was  done, 
Uncle  Tom  purchased  two  tickets  for  the 
City,  which  he  gave  to  me.  He  also  gave  me 
a  sum  of  money  to  pay  for  my  return,  and 
other  expenses,  and  I  noticed .  that  when  this 
was  done  there  was  little  left  in  his  purse. 

Soon  after,  the  train  came  in,  and  Uncle 
Tom  and  I  went  into  one  of  the  cars.  Mrs. 
Barnaby  followed,  and  it  was  not  long  before 
Fog  Lake  was  left  behind. 

Uncle  Tom  soon  went  forward  into  the 
smoking-car,  and  when  I  went  to  look  for 
him  he  was  gone.  An  intense  loneliness  came 
over  me  when  I  realized  that  he  had  left  me 


234  A   MAN  STORY. 

without  even  saying  good-by,  and  I  tried  to  re 
member  the  places  where  we  had  stopped.  One 
was  at  a  water-tank  in  the  woods,  and  I  be 
lieve  he  had  left  the  train  there,  and  walked 
out  into  the  darkness;  anywhere  to  be  rid  of 
Mrs.  Barnaby  and  a  relative  of  Mrs.  Tom's. 

In  returning  from  my  search  through  the 
train  I  passed  Mrs.  Barnaby,  and  when  she 
spoke  to  me  I  told  her  that  Uncle  Tom  had 
left  the  train  at  a  lonely  water-station  in  the 
Brooper  Woods,  where  there  was  not  even  a 
house. 

She  did  not  reply,  but  looked  out  of  the 
window  so  long  that  I  went  back  to  an 
empty  seat,  and  sat  down  to  think  of  Uncle 
Tom  stumbling  along  through  the  woods, 
cursing  Mrs.  Barnaby  and  everything  in  the 
world  except  Mrs.  Tom.  Somehow  I  believed 
that  he  could  not  curse  her,  and  I  had  a 
picture  in  my  mind  of  Uncle  Tom  stumbling 
into  a  brook  in  his  mad  run  through  the 
woods,  and  of  his  climbing  out  to  sit  on  the 
bank,  and  bathe  his  swollen  eyes. 


AN  IDOL  LEAVES   THE  SANCTUARY.       235 

After  a  while  a  train- man  touched  my  arm, 
and  said  the  lady  forward  wished  to  see  me. 
I  went  over  to  where  she  was,  and  sat  down 
by  Mrs.  Barnaby's  side. 

"Are  you  fond  of  your  Uncle  Tom?"  she 
asked. 

"Yes,"   I   answered,   at   once. 

This  did  not  seem  to  surprise  her,  though 
she  thought  about  it  awhile. 

"  I  believe  I  should  like  him,  were  he  not 
my  husband,  though  he  is  the  most  stubborn 
man  that  ever  lived.  You  heard  him  say 
to-night  that  he  would  never  go  back  to 
Fog  Lake,  and  you  may  not  have  believed 
it,  but  he  never  will.  If  Mrs.  Tom  should 
hunt  him  out,  and  ask  him  on  her  knees  to 
forgive  her,  he  would  refuse  to  even  speak 
to  her.  Much  as  he  has  wronged  me,  I 
will  be  revenged,  for  he  will  always  wildly 
love  Mrs.  Tom,  though  he  will  never  forgive 
her.  If  she  should  find  him,  in  spite  of  his 
hiding,  every  day  of  her  life,  and  ask  him 
to  forget,  he  would  no  more  do  it  than  he 


236  A   MAN  STORY. 

would  love  me.  There  never  was  such  a 
stubborn  man;  I  believe  he  will  love  Mrs. 
Tom  to  his  dying  day,  but  I  am  certain 
that  if  she  should  appear  at  his  death-bed, 
he  would  refuse  to  look  at  her.  .  No  one 
knows  so  well  as  I  do  how  stubborn  he  is; 
Mrs.  Tom  may  have  known  more  of  his 
inner  nature  than  I  ever  did,  but  she  has 
never  had  occasion  to  know  of  his  stubborn 
ness,  though  she  will  now  have  opportunity 
to  find  out." 

When  she  looked  out  of  the  window  again, 
I  would  have  given  a  great  deal  to  have 
known  what  was  in  her  mind,  and  to  have 
known  that  she  felt  something  of  tenderness 
for  Uncle  Tom,  for  I  could  not  think  of 
his  humiliation  because  of  Mrs.  Tom's  refusal 
to  see  him  without  a  moist  feeling  in  my 
eyes ;  he  had  been  so  fond  of  her,  and  he 
had  been  so  bold  in  going  with  Mrs.  Barnaby 
to  see  her,  that  I  thought  she  had  made  a 
mistake  in  refusing  to  see  him.  A  man  as 
bold  and  defiant  as  he  was  in  front  of  Mrs. 


AN  IDOL  LEAVES   THE  SANCTUARY.       237 

Tom's  home  must  have  had  a  good  defence, 
and  as  I  thought  of  him  in  the  woods  that 
night,  bruising  himself  as  he  staggered  on,  I 
believed  his  boldness  had  left  him,  and  that 
he  was  lying  flat  on  his  face  in  the  under 
brush,  where  he  had  stumbled  and  fallen,  and 
that  he  was  sobbing  out  his  grief  where  no 
one  could  hear,  oblivious  of  all  his  bleeding 
wounds  save  the  fearful  rent  in  his  heart. 

"  Had  he  loved  me  as  he  did  Mrs.  Tom," 
Mrs.  Barnaby  said  again,  "I  don't  believe 
I  should  have  given  him  up  so  easily.  Of 
course  it  was  right  that  she  should,  but  a 
man  who  hated  as  he  did  must  have  loved 
intensely ;  it  seems  to  me  now  in  my  loneli 
ness,  and  in  the  recollection  of  all  my  un- 
happiness  because  of  neglect,  that  his  strong 
love  for  Mrs.  Tom,  and  his  blind  confidence, 
would  have  been  wonderfully  agreeable.  I  never 
had  it;  I  never  could  have  had  it,  for  it  was 
not  in  me  to  inspire  it;  but  if  I  ever  hated 
him,  it  was  because  he  stubbornly  refused  to 
love  me  as  I  know  he  did  Mrs.  Tom.  If  I 


238  A   MAN  STORY. 

ever  meet  him  again  I  shall  say  that,  had  he 
made  me  his  shrine,  he  should  have  had  a 
better  return  for  it,  and  I  should  not  say  it 
to  taunt  him.  If  I  could  see  him  now,  I 
would  say  I  am  sorry;  I  have  lost  some 
thing  I  never  had,  but  he  has  lost  that 
which  he  greatly  enjoyed,  because  of  his  cer 
tainty  that  he  possessed  it,  and  to  do  with 
out  it  will  make  him  as  wretched  as  the 
damned." 

Day  was  breaking,  and  driving  the  phan 
toms  out  of  the  woods,  but  in  my  mind 
there  was  one  that  would  not  be  driven  out: 
a  man  without  a  hat,  and  with  dishevelled 
hair  and  torn  clothing,  stumbling  and  falling 
over  stones  and  prostrate  trees;  a  man  with 
bruises  on  his  face,  and  lacerated  limbs,  try 
ing  to  get  away;  anywhere,  to  be  rid  of  all 
there  was  in  his  life  worth  remembering;  a 
strong  man  trembling  with  weakness  and  fright, 
because  his  idol  had  said  to  him,  "  Begone ! " 
when  he  had  expected  strength  and  comfort. 


THE   RETURN    TO    FOG    LAKE.  239 


CHAPTER    XIX. 

THE    RETURN    TO    FOG    LAKE. 

I  RETURNED  to  Fog  Lake  the  third  day 
after  my  departure,  having  left  Mrs.  Barnaby 
at  her  own  door  in  the  City,  where  she 
bowed  stiffly,  and  retired  without  inviting  me 
in.  Her  old  spirit  of  resentment  had  returned 
during  the  latter  part  of  the  journey,  and  she 
said  but  little  to  me,  and  none  of  it  concerned 
Uncle  Tom. 

It  happened  that  I  arrived  on  the  evening 
train,  and  came  upon  them  at  home  after  the 
lamp  had  been  lighted,  and  they  were  all 
seated  together  in  the  front  room.  My  eyes 
at  first  sought  Mrs.  Tom,  who  was  seated  on 
a  low  stool  engaged  with  some  sort  of  work, 
and  trying  to  bear  up  bravely,  though  she  was 
succeeding  but  poorly.  Mrs.  Tom  had  been 
quite  ill,  I  learned,  and  unable  to  leave  her 


240  A   MAN  STOR7. 

room  for  two  days,  but  that  morning  she  had 
come  downstairs,  determined  to  make  the 
best  of  it,  as  they  all  advised  her  to  do.  I 
knew  at  a  glance  that  she  regretted  not  see 
ing  her  husband  when  he  asked  for  her,  and  that 
she  thought  as  much  of  him  as  she  ever  did ; 
unhappily,  there  was  no  mistaking  this,  and  I 
felt  that  there  could  be  no  more  content  in 
that  house  so  long  as  Mrs.  Tom  looked  as 
helplessly  mournful  as  she  did. 

Evidently  the  others  had  agreed  not  to  refer 
to  the  subject,  for  Joe  Tack  and  his  wife  were 
present,  and  they  were  talking  of  their  affairs 
when  I  came  in,  and  the  conversation  con 
cerning  the  Tacks  was  resumed  as  soon  as  I 
had  seated  myself.  I  expected  them  to  make 
inquiries  about  the  other  parties  concerned  in 
the  only  sensation  Fog  Lake  had  ever  known; 
but  they  did  not,  and  acted  as  though  as  little 
as  possible  should  be  said  on  the  subject,  for 
I  think  they  all  believed  in  Mrs.  Barnaby. 
Indeed,  they  were  talking  of  general  matters 
with  a  view  of  diverting  Mrs.  Tom's  mind 


THE    RETURN    TO    FOG    LAKE.  241 

from  her  sorrow;  as  though  she  could  forget 
her  husband  in  hearing  of  Mrs.  Joe  Tack. 

Mrs.  Tack  had  greatly  increased  in  ugliness 
since  I  had  last  seen  her,  and  Mr.  Tack's 
devotion  had  become  more  noticeable,  too,  for 
he  had  one  arm  around  her,  and  held  in  his 
other  hand  the  letter  I  had  seen  on  his  table 
at  the  house  in  the  woods,  and  which  he  had 
undoubtedly  written  himself.  Knowing  this  as 
I  did,  I  wondered  at  his  impatience  because 
more  attention  was  not  given  it,  for  when 
anything  else  was  mentioned  he  looked  as 
though  he  could  not  understand  why  a  spirit 
letter  did  not  cause  those  present  to  tremble, 
and  keep  close  together. 

From  the  conversation  that  annoyed  him  I 
judged  that  Mrs.  Footit  had  just  gone  away, 
and  that  she  had  given  the  Boomer  to  under 
stand  that  he  must  take  back  the  bonds  he 
had  sold  Footit,  and  return  the  money.  The 
Boomer  was  of  the  opinion  that  in  a  civilized 
country  a  trade  was  a  trade,  and  my  mother 
thought  so,  too,  and  they  all  seemed  to  think 


242  A   MAN-  STORY. 

that  Mrs.  Footit  had  acted  in  an  outrageous 
manner,  from  which  I  imagined  that  in  her 
conversation  with  the  Boomer  she  had  left  the 
bark  on  her  words.  She  was  always  threat 
ening  to  give  people  the  word  with  the  bark 
on,  and  it  seemed  that  the  Boomer  had  been 
caught  at  last,  for  he  had  forgotten  his  schemes 
and  was  quite  nervous.  I  had  often  been  at 
home  when  Mrs.  Footit  came  stalking  in  look 
ing  for  the  Boomer,  to  demand  that  he  take 
back  the  bonds  in  the  violin  factory  he  had 
sold  her  husband,  and  I  was  always  so  much 
interested  that  I  could  not  help  wondering 
what  had  happened  when  she  finally  caught 
him. 

But  I  was  full  of  the  Uncle  Tom  episode, 
and  when  I  tired  of  their  talk,  and  intimated 
a  desire  to  see  Mrs.  Tom  alone,  I  was  told 
by  Number  One,  who  seemed  to  be  managing 
the  affair,  that  the  name  of  Thos.  Saulsbury. 
had  been  forgotten  in  that  house,  for  the  reason 
that  to  mention  it  only  distressed  his  innocent 
victim.  Number  Two  had  been  wanting  to  ask 


THE  RETURN  TO  FOG  LAKE.      243 

all  the  evening  about  Uncle  Tom,  and  this  re 
mark  from  his  enemy  caused  him  to  bristle  up. 

"I  haven't  forgotten  him,"  he  said.  "I 
think  he  was  in  the  right.  He  was  my  friend, 
and  I  stand  by  him.  His  name  has  not  been 
forgotten  in  this  house;  it  was  Tom  Saulsbury 
of  the  Sixty-fourth.  I  remember  it;  I  shall 
always  remember  it." 

Number  Two  was  greatly  excited,  but  Num 
ber  One  paid  not  the  slightest  attention  to 
him;  indeed,  he  soon  afterwards  said  that  the 
silence  of  all  those  present  convinced  him  that 
the  name  of  a  man  we  had  once  known  and 
esteemed  had  been  forgotten,  because  he  had 
been  condemned  for  a  grave  offence. 

This  remarkable  piece  of  impudence  caused 
Number  Two  to  become  so  excited  that  he 
took  a  chew  of  tobacco  in  the  presence  of  all 
of  them,  —  a  thing  he  had  never  dared  to  do 
before,  —  and  I  believe  this  circumstance  pre 
vented  a  fight,  for,  as  he  was  afraid  to  spit 
in  the  house,  he  was  compelled  to  go  outside 
for  that  purpose,  where  he  cooled  off.  I  was 


244  A  MAN  STORY. 

as  angry  as  Number  Two,  I  think;  so  I  went 
to  my  room  in  a  bad  humor,  and  forgot  the 
matter  myself  until  I  was  awakened  in  the 
night  by  Mrs.  Tom,  who  had  crept  into  my 
room  to  secretly  talk  of  our  friend. 

I  was  anxious  to  comfort  her ;  so  I  told  her 
how  certain  I  was  that  Uncle  Tom  was  in 
the  right,  and  dwelt  on  the  things  he  had 
said  which  indicated  that  he  -was  desperately 
fond  of  her.  I  related  how  he  had  proposed 
to  bring  Mrs.  Barnaby  to  Fog  Lake,  as  a  man 
might  do  who  was  in  the  right ;  how  he  had 
told  Mrs.  Barnaby  of  the  woman  he  loved,  and 
much  more  in  the  same  strain ;  but  it  was 
unfortunate  that  I  did,  for  it  distressed  Mrs. 
Tom  so  much  that  she  sobbed  quite  pitifully 
for  a  long  time. 

During  the  time  they  had  lived  together 
Uncle  Tom  had  given  Mrs.  Tom  considerable 
amounts  of  money  every  time  he  came  home, 
which  he  said  represented  his  savings,  and 
which  he  wanted  her  to  "  keep "  for  him. 
This  money  had  been  invested  at  a  good  rate 


THE  RETURN  TO  FOG  LAKE.      245 

of  interest,  and  Mrs.  Tom  thought  of  her 
fortune  only  to  imagine  that  her  husband  was 
wandering  around  in  destitute  circumstances, 
and  in  need  of  aid,  for  I  had  told  her  of  his 
light  purse  after  buying  the  tickets,  and  of 
his  disappearance  soon  after  the  train  started. 
I  knew  that  he  would  have  no  trouble  in 
providing  for  himself,  wherever  he  went;  but 
Mrs.  Tom  was  not  so  confident,  and  worried 
a  great  deal  over  the  thought  that  Uncle  Tom 
might  need  some  of  the  money  he  had  given 
her  with  such  a  liberal  hand.  I  think  the 
amount  was  four  or  five  thousand  dollars,  and 
it  seemed  a  great  fortune  to  Mrs.  Tom,  who 
also  mentioned  that  Uncle  Tom  had  said  he 
had  never  been  able  to  save  money  until  he 
was  married.  Then  I  told  her  of  the  great 
house  of  which  he  had  been  the  head,  and 
how  certain  I  was  that  the  trouble  arose  be 
cause  of  a  complication  in  his  divorce  pro 
ceedings  with  Mrs.  Barnaby;  but  it  all 
distressed  her  so  much  that  I  finally  refused 
to  say  any  more,  as  I  had  done  with  Mrs. 


246  A   MAN  STORY. 

Barnaby,  though  for  a  different  reason,  and 
she  finally  went  away,  first  saying  that  if  she 
could  get  down  on  her  knees  before  Uncle 
Tom,  and  tell  him  why  she  did  not  see  him 
when  he  asked  for  her,  she  would  be  better 
satisfied.  Her  explanation  to  me  of  her  failure 
to  see  him  was  hurried  and  unsatisfactory,  but 
I  gathered  in  a  general  way  that  she  had 
been  so  stupefied  on  hearing  of  his  trouble 
that  she  could  not  move,  and,  while  expecting 
him  to  come  to  her,  she  was  told  that  he 
was  gone. 

There  was  a  certain  timidity  about  her  grief 
which  affected  me  strangely.  She  took  all  the 
blame  on  herself,  and  never  once  intimated 
that  Uncle  Tom  was  in  any  way  in  the 
wrong;  he  had  done  nothing  that  was  unusual 
or  out  of  the  way,  and  she  had  acted  in  a 
fashion  that  was  monstrous,  considering  all  his 
kindness  to  her.  This  was  her  way  of  talking 
about  it,  and  it  made  me  think  that  it  would 
immensely  please  Uncle  Tom,  and  of  his  say- 


THE    RETURN    TO    FOG    LAKE.  247 

ing  once  that  when  any  one  had  confidence 
in  him,  he  always  tried  to  deserve  it. 

I  think  there  was  general  regret  at  home 
because  I  had  returned,  for,  since  we  never 
heard  from  him,  I  talked  to  Mrs.  Tom  of  her 
husband  in  spite  of  their  commands,  and  I 
thought  it  would  soon  be  necessary  for  me  to 
run  away  again.  I  felt  myself  that  I  was 
only  doing  Mrs.  Tom  harm  by  talking  of  her 
husband,  and  when  I  was  with  her  I  excused 
my  conduct  by  thinking  that  I  would  not  be 
there  long,  and  that  she  really  ought  to  know 
the  truth  in  a  case  in  which  she  was  so  much 
interested,  and  have  something  pleasant  to 
think  of  while  I  was  away. 

We  walked  a  great  deal  along  the  wooded 
road  Uncle  Tom  and  I  had  travelled  with 
Mrs.  Barnaby  on  the  fatal  night,  usually  after 
nightfall,  for  Mrs.  Tom  seemed  to  imagine  that 
her  husband  was  in  hiding  in  the  woods,  or 
that,  if  he  had.  made  way  with  himself,  his 
ghost  was  still  walking  the  road,  defending 


248  A   MAN  STORY. 

himself  from  an  imaginary  Mrs.  Barnaby,  and 
cringing  from  her;  I  thought  it  possible  myself 
that  even  his  ghost  would  dread  the  living 
Mrs.  Barnaby.  I  think  she  would  have  gone 
alone  had  I  not  cared  to  become  her  escort, 
for  she  seemed  only  to  desire  my  presence  to 
point  out  the  places  where  Uncle  Tom  had 
waited  while  Mrs.  Barnaby  rested,  and  to  re 
late  what  he  had  said. 

She  was  quite  certain  for  a  time  after  his 
disappearance  that  Uncle  Tom  was  dead,  hav 
ing  made  way  with  himself  as  a  result  of  her 
cruel  humiliation  of  him,  and  once  she  told 
me  that  she  walked  the  road  in  the  hope  of 
meeting  his  ghost.  She  believed  that  it  would 
walk  through  the  woods,  and  she  hoped  to 
tell  the  phantom  what  she  regretted  she  did 
not  tell  Uncle  Tom;  that  she  loved  him,  and 
trusted  him,  and  could  not  live  without  him. 
At  other  times  she  thought  it  possible  she 
might  meet  him  in  his  own  proper  person; 
that  he  would  come  back  to  the  woods  at 


THE   RETURN    TO    FOG    LAKE.  249 

night  on  his  way  to  Fog  Lake,  and  she  hoped 
to  meet  him  and  tell  him  her  story. 

I  remembered  the  very  spot  where  Uncle 
Tom  had  said  that  when  Mrs.  Barnaby  saw 
Mrs.  Tom,  she  would  see  a  woman  a  man 
could  love ;  a  woman  who  would  make  a  bad 
man  good  by  believing  in  him,  and  I  pointed 
this  out.  Uncle  Tom  had  stood  there,  leaning 
against  a  tree;  Mrs.  Barnaby,  here,  refusing  to 
rest,  but  tiring  herself  out  in  declaring  to  me, 
as  I  stood  in  the  road,  just  where  I  did  then, 
that  Uncle  Tom  was  unscrupulous;  that  he 
would  find  out  that  no  one  would  trust  him, 
and  that  he  would  see  when  they  reached  the 
house.  I  told  her  with  what  contemptuous 
silence  Uncle  Tom  had  received  this  reflection 
on  Mrs.  Tom,  and  how  he  moved  on,  and 
how  Mrs.  Barnaby  had  followed,  declaring  that 
his  baby-faced  wife  should  know  the  truth, 
and  that  she  would  turn  from  him  in  loath 
ing  ;  she  knew  it  —  he  would  see  for  himself. 

Then  I  told  how  Uncle  Tom  had  boasted 
of  Mrs.  Tom's  confidence  in  him ;  he  had 


250  A   MAN  STORY. 

never  boasted  before,  but  he  did  then,  and 
said  that  Mrs.  Tom  would  come  to  him, 
in  spite  of  all  that  Mrs.  Barnaby  might  say, 
and  that  because  of  her  confidence  in  him  he 
would  convince  her  with  actual  proofs  that  all 
Mrs.  Barnaby  said  was  untrue ;  and  much 
more  of  the  same  nature  I  repeated,  until 
Mrs.  Tom  imploringly  begged  me  to  stop. 

"I  can  only  remember  one  thing  he  ever 
said,"  Mrs.  Tom  moaned,  "that  I  am  inclined 
to  doubt:  that  love  never  kills.  I  think  it 
will  iii  my  case-  Don't  tell  me  any  more 
to-night." 

Our  walks  frequently  led  us  into  the  heart 
of  the  woods,  and  when  Mrs.  Tom  heard  a 
noise,  she  would  stop,  and  listen,  and  call  out, 
"  Tom,  Tom,  Tom,"  with  long  stops  between 
the  words,  bursting  into  sobs  with  the  last 
word  on  her  lips.  This  once  caused  me  to 
think  that  it  would  be  better  for  her  could 
she  feel  resentment,  but  when  I  told  her  of 
it  she  said  that  her  husband  had  always  been 
so  thoughtful  and  kind  that  she  could  not  feel 


THE  RETURN  TO  FOG  LAKE.      251 

harshly  toward  him ;  she  was  certain  that  he 
did  not  deserve  reproach,  and,  even  if  he  did, 
she  could  not  upbraid  him  when  she  thought 
of  his  sorrowful  wanderings ;  a  homeless  out 
cast,  yet  she  knew  so  well  that  he  was  a 
good  man,  and  a  tender  man. 

She  called  "Tom,  Tom,  Tom,"  so  often  in 
the  woods,  and  always  so  pitifully,  that  I 
came  to  think  that  the  winds  would  take  up 
the  words,  and  carry  them  away;  perhaps  in 
their  wanderings  they  would  find  him,  and  I 
was  sure  he  could  not  resist  the  appeal,  for  I 
had  never  heard  anything  more  touching. 

When  we  returned  home  one  night,  aTter  a 
walk  in  the  woods,  we  learned  that  Number 
Two  had  gone  on  another  bender,  and  was 
making  a  tremendous  noise  in  his  room  in  the 
attic.  The  Boomer  was  away  from  home, 
as  was  usual  with  him,  and  when  it  was  sug 
gested  that  I  speak  to  the  old  gentleman,  and 
try  to  pacify  him,  I  walked  up  to  his  door, 
and  knocked;  but  he  paid  no  attention,  fur 
ther  than  to  say  that  he  was  practising  with 


252  A    MAN  STORY. 

his  musket,  and  that  the  figure  on  the  door, 
at  which  he  intended  to  shoot,  represented  a 
certain  Devil  and  Copperhead.  I  retired  rather 
hurriedly,  for  I  was  standing  behind  the  door; 
but  as  there  was  no  shooting,  I  returned  after 
a  time  and  listened. 

Number  Two  was  telling  his  comrades  that 
Tom  Saulsbury,  late  of  the  Sixty-fourth  Regi 
ment,  and  as  good  a  fellow  as  ever  lived,  had 
been  chased  away  by  the  Rebel-Copperhead- 
Devil,  and  that  if  they  were  true  comrades 
they  would  resent  the  insult.  Number  Two 
talked  quite  prettily  for  a  while  of  Uncle 
Tom  and  his  wife,  who  had  always  been  so 
good  to  him;  but  his  fierceness  soon  returned, 
and  I  saw  by  looking  through  the  keyhole 
that  he  had  on  the  little  cap  with  the  brass 
letter  and  figure  in  front,  and  his  blue  coat, 
which  had  stripes  on  the  sleeves ;  that  he  was 
on  his  feet,  with  his  knapsack  on  his  back, 
his  canteen  hanging  at  his  side,  and  his  mus 
ket  on  his  shoulder,  as  soldiers  carry  them 
while  on  duty ;  in  short,  he  was  ready  to 


THE    RETURN    TO    FOG    LAKE.  253 

march  on  the  enemy.  Indeed,  while  I  was 
looking  he  commenced  moving  his  feet  to  get 
the  step,  and  finally  marched  directly  toward 
the  door,  which  caused  me  to  retreat  in  dis 
order.  But  just  as  he  reached  the  door  he 
gave  a  sharp  command,  and  marched  the  other 
way  in  such  haste  that  his  cap  fell  off.  I 
heard  him  expostulating  with  Captain  Water- 
bury  afterwards  for  giving  the  command  to 
retreat,  and  grandfather  quite  gravely  said  that 
while  there  was  something  in  caution,  there 
was  a  good  deal  more  in  prompt  attack. 

Although  we  hoped  that  the  noisy  town 
omnibus  would  rattle  up  to  the  door  during 
the  night,  and  that  grandfather  would  return 
from  his  reunion,  nothing  of  the  kind  occurred, 
and  we  knew  the  exercises  would  continue  the 
next  day. 


254  A  MAN  STORY. 


CHAPTER    XX. 

A  MESSAGE  AND   A  MYSTERY. 

I  HAVE  said  we  never  heard  from  Uncle 
Tom ;  we  never  did,  but  there  came  to  the 
house  one  day  a  letter  that  was  unquestion 
ably  written  by  him.  There  was  no  date  of 
any  kind,  and  the  postmark  could  not  be 
made  out,  either  as  to  the  town  or  State  from 
which  it  came,  and  the  letter  was  not  ad 
dressed  to  any  one ;  it  might  have  been  a 
message  from  the  grave,  intended  for  the 
world. 

The  envelope  was  directed  to  me,  and  the 
letter  ran  as  follows :  — 

"If  a  little  red  man  should  come  up  through 
the  table  on  which  I  write,  and  say  that  he 
would  grant  me  any  single  wish,  I  should  ask 
for  the  Mrs.  Tom  I  have  lost;  it  seems  to  me 
that  I  have  no  ill  that  a  sight  of  her  would 


A   MESSAGE   AND  A   MYSTERY.  255 

not  cure.  She  has  disappeared  out  of  the 
world  completely,  and  I  think  she  must  be  in 
heaven;  if  I  ever  dreamed  of  heaven  at  all, 
it  was  of  finding  some  one  there  who  was  as 
pretty,  as  patient,  and  as  trusting  as  was  the 
sweetheart  I  have  lost.  She  was  the  dearest 
woman  in  the  world;  but  I  cannot  find  her, 
and  I  am  sure  that  I  shall  never  see  her 
again. 

"  Although  I  do  not  know  where  she  is,  I 
remember  perfectly  her  pretty  face,  her  gentle 
voice,  and  her  soft  touch,  and  I  feel  that  she 
is  not  living  any  more,  because  I  believe  I 
could  not  be  as  wretched  as  I  am  were  she 
alive.  While  I  would  attempt  any  journey  to 
find  her,  and  think  nothing  of  the  dusty  way 
I  might  be  compelled  to  travel  (for  I  should 
feel  amply  repaid  for  any  toil  with  a  single 
smile  from  her  face),  I  make  no  journeys  or 
searches,  I  am  so  confident  that  she  has  for 
ever  disappeared.  She  is  lost,  never  to  be 
found. 

"No   one    but   me    knows    the    pretty   things 


256  A   MAN  STORY, 

she  has  said  to  me,  and  I  should  almost  be 
content  with  her  memory  had  I  not  dreamed 
once  that  she  recanted,  in  one  act,  all  the 
pretty  things  she  had  said  to  my  credit,  and 
which  pleased  me  so  much.  But  I  hope  that 
the  woman  in  the  dream  did  not  represent  my 
old  love,  my  only  love,  and  that  my  sweet 
heart  was  lost  before  she  discovered  that  she 
could  not  believe  in  me,  or  trust  me. 

"  I  write  this  in  the  hope  that  she  may 
somehow  be  able  to  see  it,  as  her  old  self, 
and  know  that  I  am  grateful  for  many  sweet 
favors  in  the  past.  I  cast  this  writing  into 
the  sea;  she  may  in  some  mysterious  way  be 
able  to  read  it,  and  know  how  dear  she  was 
to  me,  and  that  I  do  not  believe  the  woman 
in  the  dream  was  the  love  I  prized  so  much. 
I  want  the  old  love  to  know  of  my  confi 
dence  in  her,  and  that  I  feel  that  though  her 
figure  should  appear  in  life,  in  its  old  form, 
to  humiliate  me,  1  should  believe  that  a  wicked 
spirit  had  taken  her  form  and  figure  to  taunt 
me.  The  dream  has  made  such  an  impression 


A   MESSAGE  AND  A   MYSTERY.  257 

on  me,  and  I  was  so  humiliated  when  the 
figure  said  that  none  of  the  pretty  things  I 
had  been  so  fond  of  were  sincere,  that  I  am 
certain  the  Mrs.  Tom  I  once  knew  is  lost, 
and  that  I  shall  never  see  her  again. 

"I  have  always  had  a  horror  of  the  dead, 
but  if  I  knew  where  Mrs.  Tom  was  buried, 
I  should  often  visit  her  grave;  to  be  near 
the  clay  of  such  a  woman  as  she  was  would 
comfort  me  in  my  present  loneliness.  I  think 
that  if  I  should  walk  through  an  unknown 
field  of  graves,  in  which  she  was  buried,  hers 
would  attract  me,  and  dispel  the  gloom  of  the 
place ;  in  losing  her  I  lost  everything,  and  I 
should  find  comfort  in  hovering  around  the 
ruins  of  my  former  greatness." 

The  letter  was  often  discussed  in  the  family, 
and  the  circumstance  remarked,  to  the  dis 
credit  of  Uncle  Tom,  that  he  attempted  no 
defence.  This  was  regarded  as  the  most 
serious  of  all,  although  it  never  occurred  to 
Mrs.  Tom,  who  continued  to  reproach  herself, 
and  imagine  that  her  husband  was  wandering 


258  A   MAN  STORY. 

up  and  down  the  world,  destitute  and 
wretched. 

Joe  Tack  had  lately  had  political  hopes, 
connected  with  the  Legislature,  and  in  travel 
ling  around  the  country  to  exhibit  himself  as 
the  best  husband  in  the  world,  I  knew  that 
he  talked  a  great  deal  about  Uncle  Tom,  and 
that  his  criticisms  were  always  unfriendly; 
perhaps  he  was  jealous  because  Uncle  Tom 
had  been  a  good  husband,  too,  for  I  often 
heard  that  he  quoted  Uncle  Tom  as  an  ex 
ample  of  the  injustice  men  practised  upon 
women. 

The  Boomer  had  a  scheme  in  the  Legis 
lature,  contemplating  the  appropriation  of  a 
million  dollars  by  the  State  to  build  a  Uni 
versity  at  Fog  Lake,  and  he  was  Joe  Tack's 
principal  patron,  and  between  them  they 
were  making  a  vigorous  canvass.  Joe  con 
fessed  everywhere  that  he  was  not  a  states 
man,  but  he  expressed  the  opinion  that  he 
was  the  best  husband  in  the  world,  and  said 
that  in  a  country  full  of  bad  husbands  he 


A   MESSAGE  AND  A  MYSTERY.  259 

ought  to  succeed.  The  people  quietly  laughed 
at  this,  and  led  the  candidate  to  believe  that 
his  issue  was  a  good  one.  So  far  as  I  was 
personally  concerned  I  felt  no  resentment 
toward  Joe ;  a  man  who  had  a  wife  as  ugly 
as  Mrs.  Tack  was  punished  enough. 

Mrs.  Tack  frequently  accompanied  her  hus 
band,  in  order  that  the  people  might  realize 
what  a  sacrifice  Mr.  Tack  was,  making  in 
being  a  good  husband,  and  she  was  un 
friendly;  so  that  those  who  knew  of  the 
matter  at  all  believed  that  Uncle  Tom  was 
a  wicked  man,  in  spite  of  my  judgment 
(and  I  knew  more  of  the  matter  than  any 
of  the  others  J  that,  had  he  been  given  an 
opportunity,  he  would  have  vindicated  him 
self. 

The  Boomer  travelled  around  a  good  deal, 
too,  but  he  was  so  much  interested  in  his 
booms  that  he  had  little  to  say  of  the 
matter  which  interested  us  most;  while  his 
schemes  were  always  turning  out  badly,  he 
never  lost  confidence  in  them,  but  was  as 


2<)0  A   MAN  STORY. 

faithful  to  them  as  if  they  had  fulfilled  every 
expectation,  and  had  time  to  think  of  nothing 
else.  He  therefore  left  Uncle  Tom  alone,  if 
he  did  not  say  anything  in  his  favor,  and  I 
used  to  hope  that  we  might  get  rid  of  Joe 
Tack  by  his  returning  to  the  mill  long 
enough  to  make  a  fire  in  the  boiler ;  but  I 
learned  that  there  was  little  hope  of  this,  for 
his  boiler  had  become  so  old  and  rusty 
that  even  he  was  afraid  to  trust  it,  and  I 
think  this  was  the  reason  that  he  went  into 
politics,  with  his  ugly  wife  as  an  issue. 

The  Brooper  Woods  continued  to  attract 
Mrs.  Tom,  and  as  often  as  possible  she 
walked  there,  and  I  always  faithfully  attended 
her,  frequently  forgetting  myself,  and  adding 
to  her  trouble  by  recounting  what  I  knew 
to  Uncle  Tom's  credit. 

On  a  certain  evening,  a  month  after  his  dis 
appearance,  we  had  gone  to  the  lonely  water- 
tank  where  Uncle  Tom  had  left  the  train, 
and  the  poor  woman  looked  everywhere  for 
his  footprints,  hoping  to  discover  the  course 


A   MESSAGE  AND  A   MYSTERY.  261 

he  had  taken  in  leaving  the  country;  but 
nothing  could  be  found  in  the  darkness,  and 
she  at  last  walked  wearily  toward  the  thick 
est  part  of  the  woods,  and  the  road  he  had 
travelled  with  Mrs.  Barnaby,  believing  that 
he  had  gone  that  way.  She  still  imagined 
that  he  was  in  hiding  in  the  woods,  living 
as  an  unhappy  hermit,  and  that,  if  he  should 
hear  her  calling  his  name,  he  would  come  to 
her.  I  believed  that,  too,  for  the  manner  in 
which  she  called  "Torn,  Tom,  Tom,"  the 
last  word  always  being  mingled  with  a  sob, 
would  have  moved  the  most  stubborn  heart. 
In  walking  towards  the  thickest  part 'of  the 
woods  from  the  water  station  we  followed 
the  course  of  a  noisy  brook,  which  led  us 
toward  home,  though  not  in  a  direct  line, 
and  I  imagined  that  the  water  had  learned 
Mrs.  Tom's  refrain,  and  was  calling  "  Tom, 
Tom,  Tom,"  for  I  could  hear  it  in  the  rush 
and  roar.  I  mentioned  this  to  her,  and  it 
pleased  her,  for  she  said  that,  if  her  hus 
band  was  living  in  the  woods,  he  must 


262  A   MAN  STORY. 

sometimes  come  to  the  brook  to  drink,  and 
then  he  would  hear  what  I  had  heard,  and 
know,  as  I  knew,  that  she  was  dying  without 
him,  and  that  life  would  be  a  joy  to  her 
should  he  consent  to  come  back  again. 

Mrs.  Tom  was  particularly  nervous  that 
night,  and  called  the  name  of  her  husband 
oftener  than  usual,  though  there  was  nothing 
to  encourage  the  belief  that  he  was  within 
hearing,  for  the  Brooper  Woods  were  as  quiet 
as  a  tomb.  There  was  a  pathetic  sorrow  in 
her  voice  that  I  had  never  heard  before,  and 
I  felt  it  would  have  been  better  could  she 
have  felt  some  of  the  hate  of  Mrs.  Barnaby. 

At  her  request  I  was  half  a  hundred  yards 
in  advance  on  our  return  home,  as  she  said 
he  would  be  more  apt  to  come  when  she  was 
alone,  and  as  she  had  stopped  in  the  road  to  call 
in  the  old  way,  I  sat  down  to  wait  for  her, 
and  was  thinking  how  horrible  it  would  be  if 
the  poor  woman  should  lose  her  mind,  and  for 
ever  call  "  Tom  !  Tom  !  Tom  !  "  and  make  every 
one  cry  who  came  near  her.  I  was  thinking  of 


A  MESSAGE  AND  A   MYSTERY.  263 

going  back,  and  leading  her  home,  when  she  gave 
a  quick  exclamation  of  surprise  ;  there  was  also 
something  in  her  voice  that  convinced  me  that 
she  was  not  frightened,  and  when  I  hastened 
toward  her  I  knew  that  what  she  had  ex 
pected  had  happened,  and  that  Uncle  Tom's 
ghost  or  own  proper  self  had  stepped  out  of 
the  darkness  and  into  her  arms.  I  could  not 
see  distinctly,  but  I  felt  that  she  was  on  her 
knees  before  him,  trying  to  speak,  but  could 
not  for  sobbing.  Uncle  Tom  picked  her  up  at 
once,  and  held  her  in  his  arms  until  she  had 
partially  recovered.  Then  she  attempted  to  ex 
plain  why  she  had  not  seen  him ;  but  he 
asked  her  not  to  speak  of  that. 

"I  have  tried  hard  to  be  brave  and  sensible," 
he  said,  "but  I  could  not  resist  coming  back 
to  Fog  Lake  to-night,  in  the  hope  of  seeing 
you  as  you  were  before  our  trouble  came ;  as 
you  were  when  a  touch  of  your  hand  rested 
me  when  I  was  tired.  I  am  so  tired  now  that 
I  am  like  a  silly  boy,  and  want  some  one  to 
comfort  me ;  no  one  in  the  world  can  do  it 


264  A   MAN  STORY. 

except  the  old  love  I  have  lost,  your  old  self, 
whom  I  found  wandering  here  in  the  woods. 

"If  I  ever  had  the  power  of  reasoning,  I 
have  lost  it,  for  I  came  back  to-night  with 
the  hope  in  my  heart  that  I  should  find  I  had 
dreamed  all  my  unhappiness ;  that  the  sight  of 
you  would  drive  away  all  the  devils  that  have 
been  keeping  me  company.  Although  I  knew 
so  well  that  my  unhappiness  was  real,  I  could 
not  forget  the  power  for  good  you  once  had 
over  me,  and  I  came  back  hoping  you  would 
somehow  find  means  to  help  me,  as  you  used 
to  do ;  it  was  foolish,  but  I  could  not  help 
it.  But  as  I  walked  along,  I  heard  you  call 
ing  me,  expressing  helplessness  in  every  word ; 
my  idol  had  left  the  sanctuary  where  it  so 
long  dispensed  comfort  and  aid  to  others,  and 
was  seeking  comfort.  I  knew  then  that  there 
was  no  hope ;  there  was  rain,  and  cold,  and 
sorrow  in  heaven,  and  the  angels  were  leav 
ing  it. 

"Don't  speak  of  anything  that  will  cause  me 
pain ;  let  me  go  my  weary  way,  feeling  that 


A  MESSAGE  AND  A   MYSTERY.  265 

the  old  love  has  come  back  for  a  moment 
from  the  darkness,  from  the  skies,  and  will 
go  away  again.  Don't  speak  of  anything  that 
has  happened  in  a  month ;  let  me  think  of 
you  as  one  at  whose  grave  I  have  mourned, 
and  who  is  permitted  to  help  me  forget  my 
loss  by  appearing  to  me  as  she  was  before. 
Let  me  believe  in  you  again,  for  I  lived  on 
your  faith  in  me.  I  need  the  old  encourage 
ment  to  keep  my  reason." 

As  had  always  been  her  way,  she  accepted 
what  he  suggested  without  hesitation,  and  gave 
herself  up  to  saying  that  she  knew  he  would 
come  back  to  her,  and  that  she  walked  in 
the  woods  whenever  it  was  possible,  and  called 
his  name. 

"For  a  month  I  have  been  longing  for  you 
as  a  man  in  hell  longs  for  water,"  Uncle  Tom 
continued.  "  The  fire  that  is  now  consuming 
me  I  built  for  the  mere  pleasure  of  seeing  the 
blaze,  although  I  knew  better,  and  was  always 
warning  myself  against  it.  In  spite  of  my 
scars  I  played  with  the  fire,  and  now  there 


266  A   MAN  STORT. 

is  not  enough  water  in  the  ocean  to  put  it 
out.  I  am  like  the  wretched  man  who  ex 
periments  with  opium,  and  who  drags  himself 
back  to  his  old  vice.  I  am  more  unhappy 
now  because  of  you  than  1^  ever  was  content, 
but  I  find  a  pleasure  in  being  with  you.  I 
am  a  man  without  honor,  for  they  would  not 
listen  to  me  when  I  would  have  shown  that 
I  was  honorable,  though  the  worst  criminals 
are  always  given  a  hearing.  I  am  a  man  with 
out  a  home,  and  a  man  without  a  heart,  for 
I  have  given  both  away,  and  cannot  take  them 
back,  and  I  am  so  wretched  in  consequence 
that  I  must  find  relief  as  the  unhappy  drunk 
ard  seeks  forgetfulness  of  his  disgrace  in 
drink,  although  he  knows  the  world  hates  him 
because  of  the  habit  that  affords  him  relief. 
Let  me  revel  for  a  brief  time  in  your  com 
pany  ;  forget  our  trouble,  and  tell  me  that  you 
love  me,  and  have  confidence  in  me." 

"  I  love  you ;  I  have  confidence  in  you," 
she  answered  quickly.  "  If  I  knew  that  I  was 
dying,  and  had  but  a  few  words  to  say,  they 


A   MESSAGE  AND  A  MYSTERY.  267 

would  be  4I  love  you;  I  have  confidence  in 
you.'" 

"  It  is  the  draught  that  intoxicates,"  he  re 
plied.  "Poor  drunkard  that  I  am,  let  me 
forget  my  sorrow  in  dissipation;  pass  the  cup 
again,  and  say  that  you  would  die  for  me." 

"As  willingly,  Tom,  as  I  rest  in  your  arms," 
she  answered;  "and  you  can  never  know  what 
a  blessed  joy  it  is  to  see  you  again.  Let  me 
say  my  prayers  to  you,  my  god,  and  declare 
it." 

"1  am  still  a  fool,"  Uncle  Tom  said,  after 
a  pause,  during  which  he  prevented  her  getting 
on  her  knees  before  him,  "  and  this  pleases 
me,  as  the  drunken  fellow  who  is  not  a  man 
is  pleased  when  he  is  called  a  god.  But  I 
must  get  away  before  I  recover  from  my  in 
toxication.  Old  Barnaby,  whom  I  now  some 
how  think  of  as  the  devil,  expects  me  to  take 
the  road  again,  and  travel  for  him.  Say  once 
more  that  you  love  me,  and  have  confidence 
in  me,  and  I'll  be  off." 

Mrs.    Tom    did    not    realize    before    that    he 


268  A  MAN  STORT. 

was  only  there  for  a  moment,  although  I  had 
felt  it  from  the  first,  and  she  clung  to  him 
with  all  her  strength. 

"Don't  go,"  she  sobbed.  "Don't  hide  from 
me  again,  Tom;  I  am  becoming  so  weak  that 
I  cannot  hunt  you,  and  will  die.  Don't  go, 
Tom ;  I  cannot  live  without  you ;  oh ! " 

He  had  broken  away  from  her,  and  disap 
peared  into  the  woods,  and  when  I  hurried  to 
her  I  saw  her  stagger  and  fall  into  the  under 
brush  beside  the  road.  When  I  picked  her 
up  the  thorns  had  caught  in  her  hair,  and 
pulled  it  down  around  her  face,  and  she  was 
limp  and  faint. 

Determined  to  get  her  home  as  soon  as  pos 
sible,  I  picked  her  up  and  started;  but  it  was 
a  heavy  load,  and  when  I  staggered  I  felt 
her  lifted  out  of  my  arms,  and  knew  that 
Uncle  Tom  was  carrying  her  rapidly  along  in 
his  strong  arms.  I  followed,  and  not  a  word 
was  spoken. 

In  her  delirium  she  could  not  forget  the 
horror  of  Uncle  Tom  pulling  away  from  her 


A   MESSAGE  AND  A   MYSTERY.  269 

and  disappearing  into  the  darkness,  and  she 
kept  saying,  "Don't  go;  don't  go,"  crying 
after  the  last  word  as  she  had  done  when  I 
had  heard  her  call,  "Tom,  Torn,  Tom!"  It 
affected  me  greatly,  but  I  could  not  tell 
whether  Uncle  Tom  was  affected  or  not,  for 
his  face  was  from  me,  and  he  walked  steadily 
along. 

Arriving  within  a  short  distance  of  the 
house,  he  gave  her  to  me,  and  disappeared, 
and  I  went  on  toward  the  house. 

At  this  moment  the  noisy  town  omnibus 
came  in  sight,  with  Number  Two  as  the  only 
passenger.  After  many  failures  and  much  noise 
the  vehicle  backed  up  to  the  front  door,  and 
Number  Two  deliberately  alighted,  having  re 
covered  from  the  Bends,  and  I  called  to  him. 
He  was  weak  and  trembling  from  his  long 
dissipation,  but  he  was  greatly  interested  at 
once,  and  helped  me  carry  the  poor  girl  up 
the  stairs  to  her  room.  We  visited  her  at 
intervals  during  the  night,  and  although  she 
always  said  she  was  better,  she  had  not  un- 


270  A   MAN  STORY. 

dressed,  and  was  lying  across  the  bed;  when 
she  spoke  to  us  we  could  detect  an  effort  to 
convince  us  that  she  was  really  better,  and 
that  she  had  not  been  crying. 


/  GET  AN  IDEA.  271 


CHAPTER    XXI. 

I    GET    AN    IDEA. 

ONE  day,  six  months  after  the  disappearance 
of  Uncle  Tom,  I  was  looking  idly  at  the  letter 
he  had  written,  and  it  seemed  to  me  that  I 
could  make  out  the  name  of  a  town  and  a  State 
from  the  postmark  on  the  envelope;  a  town 
as  far  west  from  Fog  Lake  as  the  City  was 
east ;  a  country  on  the  frontier  where  men  who 
had  lost  everything  were  likely  to  go.  I  re 
membered  the  country  as  it  appeared  on  the 
school  map  because  of  the  absence  of  lines 
indicating  streams  and  railroads,  but  I  took  a 
new  interest  in  it  by  reason  of  the  conclusion 
to  which  I  had  come.  The  postal  marks  were 
quite  indistinct,  and  I  guessed  at  them  as  I 
might  guess  at  a  puzzle;  but  I  found  the  name 
of  the  town  I  had  hit  upon  in  a  directory  at 
the  post-office,  credited  to  the  State  selected, 


272  A   MAN  STORY. 

and  I  soon  came  to  believe  that  Uncle  Tom 
was  there,  and  that  he  was  in  business  again, 
for  I  believed  that  he  would  prosper  in  that  way 
anywhere.  It  thus  came  about  that  I  thought 
a  great  deal  of  going  to  the  town,  though  I 
did  not  mention  to  any  one  my  reasons  for 
selecting  this  particular  place,  for  since  it  had 
been  found  out  that  I  was  not  the  smartest 
boy  in  the  world,  I  got  along  but  poorly  at 
home.  They  were  always  talking  of  getting 
a  place  for  me,  and  of  my  own  inactivity  in 
the  matter,  and  although  Number  One  did 
nothing  himself,  his  insolence  because  of  my 
idleness  became  unbearable;  I  therefore  deter 
mined  to  seek  Uncle  Tom,  in  the  hope  that 
I  could  find  him  and  get  something  to  do.  I 
also  believed  that  I  might  be  able  to  explain 
away  many  things  he  did  not  understand,  and 
do  Mrs.  Tom  a  great  service,  for  I  knew  it 
was  the  one  hope  of  her  life  to  see  her  hus 
band  again. 

I   thought   it  for   the   best   that   I   should   go, 
for   I   was    always   talking    to  Mrs.   Tom   about 


I  GET  AN  IDEA.  273 

her  husband,  which  only  added  to  her  trouble, 
and  there  was  a  complaint  whenever  I  was 
with  her  alone.  She  bore  up  better  than  I 
expected,  for  she  believed  that  Uncle  Tom 
would  come  back  to  her  finally,  for  he  had 
appeared  to  her  in  the  Brooper  Woods,  and 
might  appear  again ;  she  even  accepted  his 
absence  as  a  sort  of  deserved  punishment  for 
her  failure  to  see  him,  which  she  had  explained 
to  me  a  hundred  times  by  saying  that  the  ap 
pearance  of  Mrs.  Barnaby  in  the  house  rendered 
her  helpless,  and  she  could  not  move. 

I  told  her  one  day  of  my  intended  departure, 
and  she  seemed  glad  I  was  going,  though  it 
was  more  because  she  knew  I  was  not  welcome 
at  home  than  anything  else,  and  when  she 
offered  to  loan  me  the  money  necessary  for 
the  trip,  I  resolved  to  slip  away  as  soon  as 
possible,  when  no  one  was  looking,  that  I 
might  avoid  the  humiliation  of  seeing  that 
they  were  all  glad  to  be  rid  of  me. 

Joe  Tack's  experiment  in  politics  had  not 
been  successful,  and  he  was  disgracefully  beaten 


274  A   MAN  STORY. 

for  the  Legislature ;  the  men  did  not  seem  to 
appreciate  being  told  that  they  were  brutal  hus 
bands,  although  Joe  thought  they  did,  and  most 
of  them  voted  for  a  candidate  who  had  no  issue, 
further  than  that  he  was  mean  to  his  wife, 
and  who  could  not  make  a  speech.  Joe  had 
become  rather  too  fond  of  his  silver  tongue, 
too,  for  he  had  made  a  great  many  speeches 
during  the  campaign,  and,  as  he  was  rather 
tiresome,  the  people  selected  a  man  who  could 
keep  quiet. 

Although  we  knew  he  was  greatly  disappointed, 
he  said  but  little  to  indicate  that  he  was,  and 
went  cheerfully  'to  work  again  on  his  boiler, 
which  held  together  surprisingly  well,  for  it 
only  blew  up  once  in  three  months,  and  Joe 
was  not  seriously  scalded  then.  He  received  a 
great  many  letters  from  Sarah,  which  abused 
the  living  Mrs.  Tack  as  adroitly  as  ever,  but 
not  so  frequently,  for  Sarah  had  a  new  grief, 
which  was  more  important  than  jealousy ;  the 
manner  in  which  the  people  had  treated  Joe 
at  the  election  was  very  displeasing  to  her, 


/  GET  AN  IDEA.  275 

and  she  said  plainly  in  the  letters  that  the 
people  around  Fog  Lake  were  unappreciative 
and  envious  and  dull  and  contemptible.  Joe 
pretended  that  he  did  not  share  in  this  opinion, 
but  I  could  not  help  remarking  that  he  never 
lost  an  opportunity  to  read  the  letters,  and 
laugh  at  their  absurdity.  Whenever  Joe  told 
his  ugly  wife  anything  in  the  strictest  confi 
dence,  and  said  that  under  no  circumstances 
must  it  be  repeated,  she  at  once  told  it  every 
where,  and  as  she  was  shown  the  letters  as  a 
secret  favor,  the  people  soon  knew  how  they 
were  regarded  by  Sarah,  and  all  of  thorn  knew 
who  Sarah  was. 

I  think  Joe  made  practical  use  of  this  weak 
ness  of  his  wife  to  tell  everything  she  was 
requested  to  keep  quiet.  A  few  days  before 
he  was  ready  to  start  his  mill  after  an  ex 
plosion,  he  would  tell  his  wife  as  a  profound 
secret  that  he  would  be  ready  to  supply  the 
people  with  lumber  the  next  week,  and  sur 
prise  them,  and  Mrs.  Tack  would  soon  have 


276  A    MAN   STORY. 

the     information     all     over     the     neighborhood, 
though  in   the   strictest   confidence. 

Joe's  defeat  for  the  Legislature  had  caused 
him  to  dislike  me,  for  some  reason,  though 
I  had  nothing  to  do  with  it.  A  few  days 
before  I  left  Fog  Lake  for  good  I  walked 
through  the  Brooper  Woods  for  the  last  time 
with  Mrs.  Tom,  and  we  called  at  the  mill. 
The  proprietor  was  very  kind,  and  quite  con 
fidential,  for  he  offered  to  show  us  a  letter 
he  had  recently  received  from  Sarah;  but 
he  soon  thought  better  of  this,  so  far  as  I 
was  concerned,  and  would  only  show  it  to 
Mrs.  Tom.  This  action  I  thought  rather  sur 
prising,  for  he  always  pretended  to  esteem 
me  very  highly,  and  on  our  return  home  I 
persuaded  Mrs.  Tom  to  tell  me  of  its  con 
tents,  although  I  was  afterwards  sorry  that 
I  did,  for  it  added  another  grief  to  my  list. 
The  letter  said  that  the  manner  in  which  I 
was  living  off  of  Number  One,  who  was  a 
hard-working  and  worthy  man,  was  the  scan 
dal  of  the  neighborhood.  This  incensed  me 


I  GET  AN  IDEA.  271 

so  much  that  I  told  Mrs.  Tom  that  I  knew 
Joe  Tack  wrote  the  letters  himself ;  but  she 
was  not  surprised,  and  I  think  they  had  all 
known  it  a  long  time. 

Mrs.  Tom  may  have  known  that  the  real 
object  of  my  proposed  journey  was  to  find 
her  husband,  and  she  may  have  believed  that 
in  case  I  did  find  him  I  could  not  keep  the 
secret  from  her;  but  I  thought  that  day  that 
she  was  anxious  for  me  to  go.  She  was  very 
thoughtful  as  we  walked  along,  and  did  not 
even  notice  the  place  where  Uncle  Tom  had 
disappeared  the  night  he  appeared  to  her. 
All  along  the  road  we  were  travelling  I  had 
pointed  out  places  where  scenes  of  the  great 
est  interest  to  her  had  occurred,  but  she  did 
not  remark  them  on  this  particular  day, 
although  they  had  once  had  such  a  fascina 
tion  for  her  that  she  walked  the  road  almost 
every  night ;  perhaps  she  was  impatient  to 
send  out  a  courier  in  search  of  Uncle  Tom ; 
one  who  would  assure  him  that  she  loved 
him  as  much  as  he  ever  believed,  and  trusted 


278  A    MAX  STORY. 

him  as  much ;  a  messenger  who  would  never 
tire  of  saying  that  she  was  waiting  patiently 
to  do  his  bidding,  whatever  it  might  be, 
though  she  hoped  with  all  her  heart  that  his 
will  would  be  to  take  her  back,  and  give 
her  one  more  chance. 

My  mother  and  her  father  were  in  par 
ticularly  bad  humor  that  day,  for  Number 
Two  was  on  another  bender,  and  everything 
was  going  so  badly  that  I  at  last  made  up 
my  mind  to  find  the  town  of  Hooper  in  the 
west ;  that  was  the  name  I  had  made  out 
on  the  envelope.  I  had  a  horror  of  starting, 
for  I  knew  that  my  money  would  only  carry 
me  to  the  town,  and  that,  in  case  Uncle 
Tom  was  not  there,  I  could  not  get  back, 
and  would  be  compelled  to  labor  at  some 
rough  work  for  subsistence,  and  give  up  all 
hope  of  finding  Uncle  Tom.  But  they  were 
all  anxious  to  get  rid  of  me  on  any  terms, 
and  that  night,  when  they  were  all  asleep, 
I  left  the  house  with  as  much  stealth  and 
trembling  as  though  I  had  robbed  them. 


/  GET  AN  IDEA.  279 

Number  Two  was  roaring  away  in  his  room, 
so  that  I  was  not  heard,  and  in  a  little  while 
I  was  travelling  a  road  I  had  never  travelled 
before,  and  which  I  believed  would  take  me 
out  of  the  world. 

Perhaps  the  fear  I  experienced  in  leaving 
Fog  Lake  was  a  premonition  that  my  journey 
would  be  successful;  it  is  possible  that  every 
one  is  rewarded  for  modest  fear  of  their  own 
capacity,  as  every  one  is  punished  for  too 
much  confidence. 


280  A  MAN  STORY. 


CHAPTER    XXII. 

THE    TOWN    IN    THE    WEST. 

HAD  the  town  I  picked  upon  as  the  resi 
dence  of  Uncle  Tom  turned  out  the  wrong 
one,  I  don't  know  what  I  should  have  done, 
for  I  arrived  there  without  money;  but  for 
tunately  I  had  not  made  a  mistake  in  Hooper 
(I  think  there  was  originally  a  W  before  the 
H),  and  within  half  an  hour  after  my  arrival 
I  stood  before  a  store  bearing  his  name  in 
front  in  gaudy  letters,  for  even  the  sign- 
painters  seemed  to  partake  of  the  flashy  nature 
of  the  country.  I  felt  company  even  in  the 
presence  of  his  name,  and  although  I  arrived 
quite  early  in  the  morning,  and  was  walking 
rather  aimlessly  about  when  I  made  the  dis 
covery,  the  store  was  open,  and  the  business 
of  the  day  progressing. 

When   I  walked   in  Uncle   Tom  had  his  back 


THE   TOWN  IN  THE    WEST.  281 

to  the  door,  engaged  in  suggesting  an  im 
provement  in  one  of  the  shelves  to  a  clerk, 
and  although  he  was  a  little  surprised  when 
he  turned  and  saw  me,  he  soon  recovered 
himself,  and  acted  as  though  I  was  an  ac 
quaintance  who  lived  in  the  town,  and  who 
had  stepped  in  on  some  sort  of  an  errand.  I 
think  I  showed  more  surprise  on  seeing  him 
than  he  did  on  seeing  me,  for  he  was  greatly 
changed  and  had  sunken  cheeks,  as  though 
the  task  of  thinking  as  much  of  the  people 
in  Hooper  as  he  thought  of  the  people  in  Fog 
Lake  was  a  disagreeable  and  tiresome  one. 

He  was  as  indifferent  toward  me  as  to  any 
one,  and  while  he  was  shaking  hands  with 
me  a  customer  came  in,  and  Uncle  Tom  sup 
plied  his  wants  before  inquiring  of  me  how 
they  all  were  at  home. 

He  was  quite  busy  all  that  day,  —  it  happened 
to  be  Saturday,  —  and  although  he  talked  to 
me  occasionally,  and  took  me  to  dinner  at  the 
hotel,  he  only  referred  to  those  at  home  as 
he  might  to  acquaintances  he  cared  little  for, 


282  A   MAN  STORY. 

and  had  seen  within  a  week.  The  wives  and 
children  of  the  customers  who  came  in  from 
the  country  received  the  same  polite  attention 
he  gave  to  me,  and  he  seemed  to  treat  all 
exactly  alike.  Once  a  man  who  was  evidently 
of  importance  in  the  town  stepped  in  for  a 
few  moments,  and  soon  after  he  went  away  a 
farmer's  dog  followed  his  master  into  the  store, 
and  I  thought  he  had  as  much  consideration 
for  one  as  the  other. 

I  saw  during  the  day  that  he  was  doing  an 
enormous  business,  and  that  he  was  popular, 
which  may  have  been  one  result  of  the  exact 
justice  he  dealt  out  to  all.  From  the  loungers 
with  whom  I  associated  on  the  sidewalk  I 
learned  that  he  was  running  a  "cash"  store, 
and  that  there  was  great  indignation  among 
the  other  merchants,  because  people  who  owed 
them  money  patronized  him.  The  loungers  also 
agreed  that  Uncle  Tom  was  doing  the  best 
business  in  the  town,  and  that  he  deserved  it, 
for  he  was  a  thorough  good  fellow. 

These   loungers  interested   me,  and  there  was 


THE  TOWN  IN  THE    WEST.  283 

one  in  particular  whom  I  watched  nearly  all 
day.  He  was  so  fat  and  lazy-looking  that  he 
attracted  my  attention  almost  as  soon  as  I  saw 
the  name  of  Thos.  Saulsbury  above  the  box 
on  which  the  fellow  sat,  and  as  he  was  still 
there  when  I  came  out  again,  after  seeing  the 
proprietor,  I  looked  at  him  more  closely.  He 
seemed  to  be  looking  at  the  sun  and  thinking, 
and  since  that  was  a  new  country,  and  the 
people  quite  poor,  I  wondered  how  such  a 
lazy-looking  man  ever  became  so  fat. 

While  watching  him  I  saw  a  crowd  collect 
ing  in  the  street  a  block  away,  and  went  over 
to  see  what  was  up ;  but  the  lazy  man  did 
not  move,  although  he  looked  indolently  at 
the  people  going  that  way.  I  found,  on  in 
vestigation,  that  a  man  had  brought  in  a  wolf, 
which  his  dogs  had  caught  on  his  way  to 
town;  and  although  a  wolf  was  a  common 
sight  there,  the  crowd  lingered  around  it  for 
an  hour,  as  though  they  were  looking  for  ex 
cuses  to  idle  their  time  away.  I  finally  began 
wondering  if  Uncle  Tom  would  not  join  the 


284  A   MAN  STORY. 

circle,  for  all  the  other  people  seemed  to  be 
taking  a  look  at  the  dead  wolf,  arid  while 
looking  toward  the  store,  I  saw  the  lazy  man 
slowly  approaching;  he  had  succumbed  at  last, 
and  after  he  joined  the  circle,  he  was  the 
last  one  to  go  away. 

The  man  whose  dogs  had  caught  the  wolf 
told  all  the  particulars  twenty  times  to  the 
new-comers,  and  the  lazy  man  always  listened 
with  the  greatest  attention,  though  he  asked 
no  questions.  At  last,  when  the  wolf  was 
taken  away,  the  lazy  man  remained  awhile  in 
the  street  alone,  wondering  where  he  would  go 
next,  finally  waddling  off  toward  the  post- 
office,  where  he  sat  on  the  counter,  and  looked 
at  those  who  came  in.  Here  I  heard  him 
speak ;  in  answer  to  a  man  who  came  in,  and 
called  him  Bill,  he  said  things  down  on  Cow 
Creek  were  about  the  same  as  usual,  and  soon 
after  he  asked  if  he  had  any  mail,  and  went 
out  when  he  found  there  was  nothing  for  him. 
The  man  with  the  wolf  had  a  new  crowd 
around  him  in  front  of  the  post-office,  and  Bill 


THE   TOWN  IN  THE    WEST.  285 

joined  the  circle  again,  and  listened  with  the 
greatest  interest  to  the  particulars  of  the  capt 
ure,  which  he  had  heard  many  times  before. 
When  the  wolf  was  carried  away  a  second 
time,  Bill  was  again  left  alone  in  the  street, 
where  he  tried  to  collect  his  thoughts,  and 
decide  where  he  would  go  next.  He  decided 
on  a  livery  stable  not  far  away,  where  I  soon 
followed,  and  found  him  sitting  on  a  wagon- 
tongue.  I  heard  him  say  to  the  proprietor  of 
the  stable  that  he  had  better  take  that  bay 
horse ;  but  the  proprietor  said  he  already  had 
all  the  horses  he  wanted,  and  Bill  did  not 
speak  again  until  after  dinner,  although  I 
followed  him  around  nearly  all  the  morning. 
About  noon  he  disappeared  from  the  street, 
and  I  imagined  he  had  a  daughter  living  in 
town,  and  that  he  had  gone  over  there  to 
dinner.  When  he  returned  there  was  so  much 
grease  in  the  corners  of  his  mouth  that  I  was 
sure  he  had  dined  on  bacon,  but  he  was  lazier 
than  ever  by  reason  of  it,  and  did  not  move 
about  so  much  as  in  the  morning;  indeed,  he 


286  A  MAN  STORY. 

occupied  one  box  until  near  five  o'clock,  when 
he  walked  into  Uncle  Tom's  store,  bought  ten 
cents'  worth  of  saleratus,  and  began  asking  if 
any  one  knew  of  a  wagon  in  from  the  Cow 
Creek  way.  He  finally  found  one,  and  I  saw 
him  going  away,  seated  in  the  bottom  of  the 
wagon-bed,  and  looking  as  though  he  would 
like  to  hear  that  wolf  story  once  more. 

There  were  a  good  many  others  on  the 
streets  who  reminded  me  of  Bill,  and  I  won 
dered  how  Uncle  Tom  could  prosper  in  such 
a  place ;  but  when  I  mentioned  it  to  him  he 
laughed,  and  said  that  Bill  was  all  right;  he 
would  probably  work  the  next  day,  as  it  would 
be  Sunday,  and  all  the  stores  would  be  shut 
up.  Hooper  seemed  a  wretchedly  poor  prairie 
town  to  me,  but  it  drew  trade  from  a  large 
territory,  and  seemed  to  be  prospering. 

By  six  o'clock  the  rush  was  over,  and  Uncle 
Tom  took  me  down  to  his  house, — a  comfort 
able  two -story  frame  he  had  built,  and  where 
he  lived  with  an  old  colored  man  who  had 
been  a  house-servant  in  slavery  days.  The 


THE   TOWN  IN  THE    WEST.  287 

house  was  completely  furnished,  and  the  old 
negro  kept  it  very  well,  for  he  gave  us  a  par 
ticularly  good  supper,  and  he  seemed  to  have 
very  good  ideas  about  such  things.  I  noticed 
that  while  in  the  kitchen  he  wore  a  cook's 
cap,  but  when  he  came  in  to  serve  he 
changed  this  for  a  waiter's  jacket  and  apron. 

Uncle  Tom  gradually  approached  the  subject 
most  in  my  thoughts,  as  the  meal  progressed, 
and  finally  said  he  had  not  received  me  more 
warmly  because  he  had  resolved  to  in  future 
treat  every  one  exactly  alike ;  he  had  been  in 
love  once,  and  disappointed,  and  could  not 
stand  another  experience  like  it;  he  believed 
it  would  kill  him.  He  talked  of  this  in  a 
light  way,  but  he  had  become  so  grave  since 
I  had  seen  him  that  had  he  told  me  ghost 
stories,  I  should  have  thought  he  believed  in 
them. 

"  I  was  glad  to  see  you,"  he  said,  "  and  I 
shall  give  you  a  place  if  you  want  it;  but 
while  I  shall  expect  you  to  live  here  with  me, 
I  shall  treat  you  exactly  as  I  do  all  the 


288  A   MAN  STORY. 

others.  I  shall  never  again  be  fond  of  any 
living  thing.  I  am  not  a  gloomy  man,  —  of 
course  it  would  not  do  for  a  philosopher  to 
be  gloomy,  and  I  am  a  philosopher  now,  — 
but  I  am  afraid  to  ever  be  fond  of  any  one 
again;  I  would  certainly  be  disappointed,  and 
I  could  not  stand  it." 

Soon  after  we  retired  to  his  room  in  the 
upper  part  of  the  house,  and  I  noticed  that 
while  the  curtains  at  the  north  and  south 
windows  were  drawn,  that  on  the  east  win 
dow  was  up ;  there  was  an  easy-chair  near  it, 
and  I  thought  he  often  sat  there,  and  looked 
out  into  the  night  in  the  direction  Mrs.  Tom 
lived.  I  think  he  noticed  that  I  remarked 
this  arrangement,  for  he  avoided  the  chair, 
and  sat  down  at  a  table  in  front  of  the  fire. 

"  I  have  a  new  love  affair,  with  a  lady 
named  Margaret,"  he  said,  after  a  long 
silence,  during  which  I  believe  we  were  both 
thinking  that  it  would  be  exceedingly  awkward 
to  talk  of  Mrs.  Tom  under  the  circumstances. 

He    produced    a    small    image    of    a    woman, 


THE   TOWN  IN  THE    WEST.  289 

made  of  some  sort  of  metal,  which  had  once 
been  used  to  support  the  bowl  of  a  lamp. 
This  he  held  up  for  my  inspection,  and  then 
put  down  on  the  table. 

"Margaret  is  the  most  sensible  woman  in 
the  world,"  he  continued.  "  She  has  never 
once  found  fault  with  me,  although  I  have 
been  very  trying  at  times,  I  imagine,  to  a 
lady  of  Margaret's  fine  sensibilities.  For  days 
and  weeks  I  do  not  think  of  her,  but  she 
imagines  I  am  busy,  and  says  nothing.  This 
is  all  the  more  remarkable  when  it  is  known 
that  Margaret  is  very  much  in  love  with  me. 
She  would  jump  into  the  fire  for  me  should  I 
ask  her.  4  Margaret,  my  sweet  mistress,'  he  said, 
addressing  the  image,  '  I  desire  that  you  jump 
into  the  fire  to  convince  this  young  man  that 
you  love  me.' " 

Thereupon  he  picked  Margaret  up,  and  threw 
her  into  the  fire,  where  she  was  soon  red-hot. 

"  She  makes  no  complaint,  you  will  notice," 
Uncle  Tom  said,  listlessly  gazing  at  his  sweet 
mistress  as  she  lay  in  the  coals.  "  When  it  is 


290  A   MAN  STORY. 

nay  pleasure  for  her  to  come  out,  she  will 
come  out,  but  not  before,  and  she  will  never 
complain  of  the  suffering  she  endured  to  grat 
ify  my  whim." 

When  it  seemed  certain  that  Margaret  would 
not  complain  of  the  heat,  Uncle  Tom  removed 
her  with  the  tongs,  and  set  her  down  on 
the  hearth  to  cool  off. 

"I  wonder  she  is  as  faithful  to  me  as  she  is. 
I  have  been  trying  to  love  her  ever  since  I 
have  been  here,  and  although  I  have  not  suc 
ceeded  very  well,  Margaret  never  complains; 
the  sensible  woman  no  doubt  believes  that  I 
cannot  fail  to  appreciate  her  in  time.  I  hope 
that  I  shall,  for  she  is  very  deserving.  She 
never  compares  me  unfavorably  to  a  gentleman 
she  might  have  married,  and  it  has  never  oc 
curred  to  Margaret  at  any  time  that  her  lot 
in  life  might  have  been  better;  that  she  might 
have  found  a  man  more  competent  and  thought 
ful  than  I  am.  She  believes  that  I  do  the 
best  I  can,  and  is  satisfied.  Margaret  has  her 
faults;  it  might  be  imagined  from  her  silence, 


THE   TOWN  IN  THE    WEST.  291 

for  example,  that  she  is  sullen ;  but  she  has 
more  virtues  than  faults.  This  love  affair 
with  me  may  not  be  the  only  one  in  which 
she  has  been  interested,  but  I  do  not  hate 
any  one  on  her  account ;  there  is  a  good  deal 
in  that.  Admitting  that  she  has  been  in  love 
before,  I  should  not  care.  I  know  her 
peculiar  nature,  and  I  cannot  imagine  her 
saying  or  doing  anything  that  would  displease 
me.  There  is  a  good  deal  in  that,  too." 

Margaret  had  cooled  off  by  this  time  suffi 
ciently  to  be  removed  to  the  table,  where 
Uncle  Tom  affectionately  stroked  her  metal 
hair. 

"I  have  never  been  thoughtful  of  Margaret, 
in  spite  of  her  devotion  to  me,  and  I  have 
never  been  fond  of  her,  of  which  I  am  ashamed; 
but  in  spite  of  it  all  she  has  confidence  in  me. 
If  Mrs.  Tom,  for  instance,  should  come  into 
this  house,  Margaret  wouldn't  care ;  indeed, 
Margaret  would  be  glad  to  see  her,  and  make 
it  as  pleasant  for  her  as  she  does  for  me. 
Even  if  she  knew  I  had  once  been  fond  of 


292  A  MAN  STORY. 

Mrs.  Tom,  it  would  make  no  difference  with 
Margaret;  if  she  knew  that  I  have  never  been 
able  to  get  over  my  insane  fondness  for  Mrs. 
Tom,  I  believe  that  Margaret  would  still  be 
my  friend,  and  do  all  she  could  to  relieve 
my  sorrow,  instead  of  trying  to  add  to  it,  as 
some  women  do  who  find  the  man  they  love 
in  trouble.  This  is  a  very  unusual  quality  in 
a  woman;  particularly  in  a  woman  of  fine 
sensibilities-  like  Margaret. 

"Her  ideas  on  this  question  are  so  sound 
that  they  attract  my  warmest  admiration.  I 
cannot  always  cheerfully  act  upon  Margaret's 
knowledge  myself,  but  I  admire  her  good  sense. 
Every  one  should  feel  with  reference  to  such 
matters  as  Margaret  does,  but  they  do  not, 
and  are  very  miserable ;  Margaret,  I  believe,  is 
a  very  happy  woman." 

Uncle  Tom  was  always  fearful,  I  imagined, 
that  I  should  believe  him  to  be  melancholy, 
and  as  he  had  been  quite  doleful  while  talk 
ing  of  his  new  love  affair,  he  brightened  up, 
and  said  that  Margaret  needed  to  be  freshly 


THE   TOWN  IN  THE    WEST.  293 

painted,  as  the  imitation  of  bronze  with  which 
she  had  originally  been  clothed  was  becoming 
tarnished. 

"I  have  thought  that  in  case  I  ever  become 
fond  of  Margaret  I  shall  regret  her  silence ; 
but  lately  I  have  concluded  that  her  habit  of 
saying  nothing  is  a  good  thing.  It  is  usually 
the  case  that  when  a  woman  is  first  in  love 
she  says  a  great  many  pretty  things  to  her 
partner  in  folly,  which  gives  him  an  exalted 
idea  of  himself.  But  one  by  one  she  recants 
all  the  pretty  things  she  has  said,  and  the  man 
is  worse  off  than  though  he  had  always  been 
sensible ;  a  poor  man  is  better  off  for  never 
having  been  a  king.  When  a  woman  is  first 
in  love  with  you  she  pretends  not  to  notice 
your  faults;  but  it  is  certain  that  she  remarks 
them,  for  she  recounts  them  to  the  next  fel 
low  as  evidence  that  she  never  really  loved 
you.  Mrs.  Tom  has  said  many  pretty  things 
to  me,  but  I  know  now  she  never  meant  them, 
and  I  have  foolish  regrets  that  there  is  not 


294  A   MAN  STORY. 

some  one  in  the  world  who  could  say  pretty 
things  of  me,  and  live  by  them." 

"I  shall  always  believe,"  I  said,  "that  Mrs. 
Tom  thinks  as  much  of  you  now  as  she  ever 
did." 

"  I  am  of  the  same  opinion,"  he  replied,  in 
a  tone  which  somehow  convinced  me  that  I 
had  not  advanced  Mrs.  Tom's  cause.  There 
was  a  subdued  bitterness  in  his  voice  which 
convinced  me  that,  while  he  could  not  help 
being  fond  of  Mrs.  Tom,  he  felt  humiliation 
because  she  was  not  equally  fond  of  him;  there 
was  an  announcement  in  it  that  his  spirit  and 
pride  had  been  humbled ;  but  he  soon  commenced 
talking  about  the  image  again,  and  with  a  des 
perate  sort  of  cheerfulness. 

"  Margaret  has  never  told  me  she  loves  me ; 
but  she  has  never  told  me  she  does  not,  and 
as  she  lives  with  me,  and  finds  no  fault,  I 
infer  that  she  is  satisfied.  She  has  never  said 
anything  to  me  that  I  wanted  to  hear,  —  little 
remarks  that  I  felt  I  was  entitled  to ;  but,  on 
the  other  hand,  she  has  said  nothing  that  I  did 


THE   TOWN  IN  THE    WEST.  295 

not  want  to  hear,  and  has  generally  been  very 
discreet.  I  am  free  to  imagine  whatever  I 
please  of  Margaret,  and  she  never  tells  me  I 
am  mistaken  either  by  word  or  action.  But 
I  see  I  can't  keep  you  awake  any  longer,  and 
you  had  better  go  to  bed." 

He  had  been  noticing  that  I  was  sleepy,  and 
in  getting  up  from  the  table  he  jarred  it  in 
such  a  way  that  Margaret  fell  over  on  her 
face ;  but  he  did  not  take  the  pains  to  right 
her,  feeling,  no  doubt,  that  with  her  usual 
good  nature  she  would  not  complain. 

He  followed  me  into  my  room,  and  remained 
until  I  was  in  bed,  when  he  reluctantly  with 
drew.  He  had  a  habit  of  reading  in  bed,  — 
books  of  a  severe  philosophical  cast,  usually, — 
and  this  night  he  read  so  late  that  when  I 
awakened  and  saw  his  light  still  burning,  I 
thought  the  patient  Margaret  must  have  re 
belled  at  last,  and  that  he  was  busy  explain 
ing  away  that  which  the  excellent  woman  had 
so  long  borne  in  silence. 


296  A   MAN  STORY. 


CHAPTER    XXIII. 

MR.     HICKEY. 

THE  Monday  after  my  arrival  in  Hooper 
(the  people  always  pronounced  the  name  of 
the  town  as  though  it  was  Whooper,  and 
was  great  at  Whooping  up  things,  though  it 
was  not)  I  was  given  a  place  in  the 
store,  and,  as  Uncle  Tom  had  been  some 
what  crowded  with  office-work,  I  helped  him 
in  that;  I  was  willing  to  undertake  to  write 
a  fairly  good  hand,  and  believed  that  Uncle 
Tom  would  be  so  patient  in  teaching  me 
that  my  willingness  would  soon  enable  me  to 
give  tolerable  satisfaction.  His  promptness  in 
giving  me  a  place  encouraged  me  to  try 
very  hard  to  please  him,  and  the  duties  he 
marked  out  for  me  I  worked  at  with  all  my 
might. 

I   wrote   home     telling   them    I   had    found   a 


MR.   I1ICKEY.  297 

place;  but  I  did  not  mention  who  my  bene 
factor  was,  though  I  wrote  as  few  letters  as 
possible,  fearful  that  I  could  not  keep  the 
secret.  Uncle  Tom  never  told  me  not  to 
mention  it;  but  I  supposed  he  preferred  to 
remain  hidden,  or  he  would  have  told  of  his 
whereabouts  himself.  I  lived  with  the  pro 
prietor  in  his  wooden  house  on  the  edge  of 
the  town,  and  as  I  had  made  friends  with 
his  old  negro  servant,  whose  name  was  Archie, 
I  was  quite  comfortably  situated. 

One  of  the  clerks  in  the  store,  I  discov 
ered  during  the  idle  day  following  my  ar 
rival,  was  the  renowned  Mr.  Hickey,  of 
whom  Mrs.  Footit  talked  so  much.  Consid 
ering  that  he  was  rather  an  old  man,  he 
was  a  foolish  sort  of  a  fellow,  and  I  often 
amused  myself  by  telling  him  what  a  large, 
splendid  man  Footit  was,  and  how  rich  he 
had  become.  Although  Hickey  was  quite  a 
gay  old  chap,  and  murmured  a  good  deal 
because  of  the  lack  of  society  in  Hooper, 
he  had  a  warm  heart,  for  when  I  occasion- 


298  A  MAN  STORY. 

ally  walked  about  in  the  evening  with  him, 
and  told  of  Mrs.  Footit's  devotion  to  him, 
he  quietly  wiped  his  moist  eyes  with  one  of 
the  handkerchiefs  we  advertised  as  leaders  at 
six  for  twenty-five  cents,  and  said  that  mem 
ory  was  a  certain  but  ruthless  friend. 

If  Hickey  had  ever  been  married,  as  Mrs. 
Footit  had  stated,  he  was  evidently  a  widower 
when  I  knew  him,  for  he  was  always  going 
to  sociables,  which  were  the  only  amuse 
ments  the  town  afforded;  and  if  he  had  ever 
been  rich,  he  had  seen  hard  times,  and  lost 
his  money,  for  he  was  certainly  quite  poor 
when  I  knew  him,  except  in  affection ;  he  had 
plenty  of  that,  and  was  always  offering  to 
give  it  away.  I  was  convinced  that  Mrs. 
Footit's  entire  story  was  a  fiction,  except 
that  she  had  once  been  engaged  to  him;  and 
while  Hickey  pretended  to  fondly  remember 
his  old  sweetheart,  he  was  evidently  not 
sincere,  for  it  was  said  of  him  that  he  was 
always  trying  to  marry  some  one.  There  was 
a  story  current  to  the  effect  that  Hickey  had 


MR.   HICKEY.  299 

tried  to  many  a  certain  widow,  but  she  pre 
ferred  a  better  man,  and  Hickey  then  paid 
court  to  her  oldest  daughter.  The  daughter 
married  away  from  him,  too,  and  he  became 
attentive  to  a  still  younger  daughter,  and  the 
story  went  that,  after  she  married,  Hickey 
continued  to  visit  the  house,  although  the 
only  girl  left  was  just  turning  fifteen. 

There  were  a  number  of  church  organiza 
tions  in  the  town,  for  it  is  the  history  of 
the  frontier  that  while  the  first  man  to 
arrive  in  a  county  is  at  work  building  a 
court-house,  his  wife  is  busy  arranging  for 
a  church,  and  Hickey  attended  all  their 
sociables,  and  mite  societies,  and  that  sort  of 
thing.  It  was  his  habit  to  say  that  he  liked 
all  the  churches  so  well  that  he  had  not 
been  able  to  make  up  his  mind  which  one 
to  join  as  a  permanent  arrangement,  though 
I  used  to  fear  he  would  die  of  old  age  with 
out  connecting  himself  with  any  of  them. 
But  Hickey  thought  of  himself  as  quite  a 
boy,  in  spite  of  his  age,  and  preferred  my 


300  A   MAN  STORY.. 

society  to  that  of  the  older  ones  in  the  store, 
though  I  heard  him  say  one  time,  when  his 
judgment  had  been  questioned  about  some 
thing,  that  he  had  been  a  clerk  for  forty 
years,  and  ought  to  know  what  he  was  talk 
ing  about. 

Though  Hickey  was  an  extremely  good  man, 
I  did  not  like  him  very  well,  and,  as  the 
town  was  quite  dull,  I  spent  most  of  my 
evenings  at  home  with  Uncle  Tom,  who 
treated  me  with  the  greatest  kindness  and 
consideration,  and  who  always  seemed  glad  to 
have  me  with  him,  in  spite  of  his  resolve  to 
have  no  favorites. 

Although  he  was  apparently  cheerful,  I  knew 
him  to  be  a  very  wretched  man.  Occasionally 
he  would  forget  that  a  philosopher  should 
never  be  gloomy,  and  go  about  his  duties  in 
a  quiet  way  that  was  distressing,  when  it  was 
said  around  the  store  that  the  "  old  man " 
was  troubled.  Uncle  Tom  was  not  an  old 
man,  but  he  was  privately  referred  to  as  one 
by  the  clerks;  even  Hickey  did  it,  although 


MR.   IIIC KEY.  301 

Hickey   might  have   been    Uncle    Tom's    father 
had   he  married   as   early   as   he  desired. 

Uncle  Tom  was  quite  well  known  in  that 
country,  and  popular,  too,  I  think;  but  he 
never  went  anywhere,  and  when  he  could  find 
an  excuse  for  it,  he  worked  at  the  store  until 
a  late  hour,  as  if  he  was  better  satisfied  when 
at  work  than  at  any  other  time. 

At  night,  at  the  house,  when  he  talked  to 
me,  and  I  sought  polite  excuse  to  go  to  bed, 
being  of  a  sleepy  turn,  he  would  introduce  a 
more  interesting  subject,  with  a  view  of  keep 
ing  me  with  him,  and  I  always  felt  that  he 
was  mourning  for  the  loss  of  Mrs.  Tom,  there 
fore  he  did  not  surprise  me  when  he  told  me 
so  one  night,  with  his  usual  frankness.  Pie 
was  seated  in  an  easy-chair  in  front  of  the 
window  looking  toward  Fog  Lake,  with  his 
feet  resting  on  the  sill,  and  had  just  pointed 
out  a  pathway  of  stars  which  seemed  to  end 
directly  over  the  house  where  Mrs.  Tom  lived ; 
a  pathway  he  watched  a  great  deal,  he  told 
me,  although  it  always  made  lu'm  lonely. 


302  A   MAN  STORY. 

"  I  am  as  fond  of  Mrs.  Tom  as  I  ever 
was,"  he  said;  "and  while  I  can  convince 
myself  that  I  should  not  be,  I  soon  forget 
my  arguments,  and  am  as  foolish  as  ever.  I 
shall  have  a  good  deal  of  charity  in  future 
for  the  men  who  have  bad  habits,  and  cannot 
overcome  them,  although  they  know  better. 
All  the  common  sense  and  all  the  logic,  all 
the  arguments,  in  short,  are  on  the  side  of  my 
forgetting  Mrs.  Tom ;  but  I  am  weaker  in  my 
heart  than  in  my  head,  I  suppose,  and  I  can 
not  do  it,  although  I  am  about  the  only  man 
in  the  world  who  has  permitted  the  love- 
craziness  to  occupy  his  mind  for  nearly  three 
years.  There  is  absolutely  nothing  in  it;  no 
one  knows  that  better  than  I  do,  yet  no  one 
knows  quite  as  well  as  I  do  that  the  lack  of 
it  is  gradually  breaking  me  down.  Mrs.  Tom 
used  to  say  that  everything  I  did  was  right, 
and  that  she  could  not  live  without  me  ;  but 
she  knows  now  that  everything  I  do  is  not 
right,  and  she  is  living  without  me." 

He   was   gazing   out  into  the  darkness,  at  the 


MR.   IIICKET.  303 

pathway  of  stars  leading  toward  the  house 
where  Mrs.  Tom  lived.  The  pathway  was  so 
indistinct  to  my  eyes  that  I  could  scarcely 
make  it  out,  but  it  seemed  clearly  defined  to 
Uncle  Tom,  and  after  a  long  silence  he  pointed 
out  a  particular  star  which  was  brighter  than 
the  others,  and  which  he  was  sure  hovered 
over  Mrs.  Tom  every  night. 

"  Had  there  been  anything  in  love,"  he  con 
tinued  later,  "  Mrs.  Tom  never  would  have 
refused  to  see  me  that  night.  They  say  a 
love  affair  is  more  serious  and  important  to  a 
woman  than  to  a  man.  Well,  I  suppose  it 
is;  but  had  she  trusted  in  me  as  I  trusted  in 
her,  I  should  have  been  a  very  contented 
man  now,  instead  of  one  of  the  most  wretched 
in  the  world." 

I  told  him,  then,  that  I  had  heard  Mrs. 
Tom  say  that  she  had  exactly  the  trust  in 
him  that  he  expected,  but  that  when  she  was 
told  that  Mrs.  Barnaby  was  in  the  house 
expressly  to  make  him  trouble,  she  was  pow 
erless  to  speak  or  move;  that  she  wanted  to 


304  A    MAN  STORY. 

go  to  him,  and  express  her  confidence,  but 
could  not. 

The  reference  to  Mrs.  Barnaby  did  not  do 
him  any  good,  apparently,  for  when  he  contin 
ued,  there  was  more  bitterness  in  his  tone :  — 

"It  is  not  what  you  want  to  do  that  counts 
in  life,  but  what  you  really  do.  Usually  when 
a  man  is  accused  his  defence  is  weak,  but 
had  they  heard  me  that  night  I  should  have 
vindicated  myself;  I  had  the  proofs  to  show 
them.  It  would  have  been  the  one  memorable 
event  in  my  life  had  Mrs.  Tom  permitted  me 
to  convince  her  that  her  confidence  in  me  was 
deserved.  There  was  a  time  when  I  did  not 
think  so  much  of  honor  as  I  do  now,  but  I 
was  very  anxious  that  night  to  prove  that 
every  unfavorable  charge  made  against  me  was 
untrue.  It  is  not  often  that  even  guilty  men 
are  denied  a  hearing." 

I  thought  there  was  a  great  deal  in  his 
statement,  that  it  is  not  what  you  want  to  do, 
but  what  you  really  do,  that  counts  in  life. 
I  had  always  been  willing  to  become  a  banker, 


MR.   TUCKET.  305 

or  a  great  man  in  some  other  way,  but  what 
I  had  really  done  that  was  creditable  amounted 
to  almost  nothing.  I  thought  he  referred  to 
me,  it  applied  so  well ;  it  may  occur  to  others 
that  he  referred  to  them. 

"  That  is  the  reason  love  is  so  unsatisfactory ; 
it  is  helpless  in  misfortune,  and  is  not  a  thing 
you  can  go  to  in  trouble.  It  is  well  enough 
in  a  time  of  peace,  but  a  little  adversity 
causes  it  to  fly  away  in  search  of  bright  days 
and  moonlight  nights ;  that  is  the  reason  I 
am  ashamed  of  being  in  love.  I  would  not 
feel  more  disgusted  with  myself  were  I  a  firm 
believer  in  Santa  Claus,  in  spite  of  the  knowl 
edge  that  all  other  men  had  outgrown  the 
pleasant  delusion  with  their  childhood.  I  have 
been  trying  to  become  fond  of  Margaret;  if  I 
succeed,  I  hope  she  will  confess  to  me  that 
she  is  a  widow ;  a  widow  is  a  cynic  on  the 
subject  of  love,  and  will  give  a  husband  a 
chance.  But  should  I  marry  Margaret  and  find 
her  a  maid,  she  would  contrast  me,  as  a 
matter-of-fact  husband,  with  the  lover  she  was 


306  A   MAN  STORY. 

most  fond  of,  and  I  would  be  in  competition 
with  a  god,  and  fail.  Had  Margaret  married 
the  lover  she  was  most  fond  of  as  a  girl,  she 
would  have  discovered  how  little  there  is  in 
love ;  I  think  her  present  good  sense  must  be 
due  to  the  fact  that  she  is  a  widow.  A  young 
wife  is  forever  rinding  you  out;  without  mean 
ing  to  be  deceitful,  you  lead  her  to  believe 
that  you  are  better  than  you  are,  from  a 
mingled  sense  of  hope  for  the  future,  and  a 
determination  to  do  better  than  you  have  done; 
but  a  widow  has  the  charity  that  contact  with 
the  world  alone  can  give,  and  is  not  surprised 
if  she  does  find  you  out.  Margaret  would  ac 
cept  a  husband  just  as  he  is.  Where  is  the 
old  girl?"  . 

He  got  up  from  his  chair,  and  went  to 
looking  for  Margaret,  finding  her  at  last  on  a 
desk  that  stood  in  the  room. 

"She  has  scars  all  over  her,"  he  said,  ex 
amining  the  image  critically ;  "  the  widow  evi 
dently  had  a  rough  time  with  the  lover  she 
thought  most  of.  She  would  make  some  one 


MR.  IIICKEY.  307 

a  good  wife ;  if  I  could  get  Mrs.  Tom  out 
of  my  mind,  I  should  propose  myself.  The 
oftener  a  woman,  has  been  in  love,  the  more 
pretty  things  she  thinks  of  to  say,  —  every  new 
lover  suggests  something  pretty,  and  she  re 
peats  it  to  the  next  one.  If  Margaret  could 
speak,  I  have  an  idea  she  would  make  deli 
cious  love  to  me,  since  a  woman  thinks  as 
well  of  one  man  as  of  another.  Mrs.  Tom 
used  to  smile  so  sweetly  that  it  makes  me 
lonesome  to  think  about  it,  but  I  remember 
that  she  smiled  at  every  one  in  exactly  the 
same  way." 

He  talked  a  good  deal  about  Margaret  that 
night,  and  once  he  startled  me  by  referring 
to  Mrs.  Barnaby  in  a  rather  surprising  way. 
Mrs.  Barnaby  had  somehow  discovered  his 
whereabouts,  and  written  that  she  was  anxious 
to  give  him  half  the  property  in  the  City, 
and  although  he  had  refused  to  take  a  penny 
of  it,  feeling  that  he  could  excuse  his  con 
duct  better  without  it,  he  could  not  help  ad 
miring  the  spirit  that  prompted  the  offer;  he 


308  A   MAN  STORY. 

admired  it  so  much,  indeed,  that  he  said  he 
sometimes  thought  that  he  would  return  to 
the  City,  and  offer  to  make  up  with  Mrs. 
Barnaby,  and  finish  his  life  with  her,  as  a 
means  of  proving  beyond  any  sort  of  question 
that  there  was  nothing  in  love.  He  still  hated 
her,  he  said,  but  his  life  in  the  City  before 
he  knew  Mrs.  Tom  had  been  no  more  dread 
ful  than  his  life  away  from  it,  now  that  he 
had  forever  lost  Mrs.  Tom. 

Besides,  it  would  settle  his  misery,  and  he 
would  have  no  more  ridiculous  dreams  of  pos 
sible  content  in  the  future ;  a  form  of  dream 
ing  he  could  not  avoid.  He  had  thought  quite 
seriously  of  the  Mrs.  Barnaby  proposition,  he 
said,  and  seemed  so  much  in  earnest  that  I 
was  uneasy;  but  he  said  later  that  he  was 
afraid  to  approach  her  on  the  subject,  as  he 
felt  certain  that  she  would  drive  him  out  of 
the  house.  He  talked  about  the  matter  so 
much  and  so  seriously  that  I  came  to  believe 
that  had  Mrs.  Barnaby  called  upon  him,  and 
proposed  a  reconciliation,  he  would  have  ac- 


MR.   HICKEY.  309 

cepted  the  offer,  simply  as  a  means  of  getting 
rid  of  his  hope  of  more  peace  in  the  future, 
which  he  believed  to  be  only  a  foolish  fancy, 
but  which  he  could  not  get  rid  of,  and  which 
caused  him  much  unrest. 

When  I  left  him  he  was  examining  Mar 
garet  for  fresh  evidence  that  she  had  been  ill- 
treated  by  the  lover  she  had  once  worshipped, 
and  finally  married,  and  the  surprising  number 
of  bruises  and  scars  he  found  seemed  to  con 
vince  him  that  all  those  who  fell  in  love 
suffered  for  it. 


310  A   MAN  STORY. 


CHAPTER    XXIV. 

A  MAN'S  STORY. 

Six  months  after  I  arrived  in  Hooper  I 
received  a  letter  one  morning  from  Mrs.  Tom, 
saying  she  was  coming  to  see  me  within  a 
few  days.  Immediately  on  the  receipt  of  her 
letter  I  went  to  the  hotel  to  arrange  for  her 
entertainment,  and  found  that  she  had  arrived 
a  half  hour  before,  and  the  hotel  people  were 
on  the  point  of  sending  out  for  me  when  I 
appeared. 

She  told  me,  after  we  were  seated  in  the 
hotel  parlor,  that  she  had  long  suspected  that 
I  was  with  Uncle  Tom,  and  that  she  had  made 
the  journey  —  it  was  an  important  journey  to 
Mrs.  Tom,  who  was  not  accustomed  to  travel 
ling —  in  the  hope  of  seeing  him,  and  that  she 
knew  before  I  appeared  that  the  belief  that  her 
husband  was  in  Hooper  was  right,  for  the  hotel 


A    MAN'S   STORY.  311 

people  had  told  her  that  I  was  employed  by 
my  uncle,  Tom  Saulsbury,  and  that  she  had 
heard  them  tell  the  messenger  to  look  for  me 
at  his  place.  So  the  secret  was  out,  and  I 
told  her  that  I  would  announce  her  arrival  to 
Uncle  Tom,  which  arrangement  she  consented 
to  with  a  gasping  for  breath,  which  indicated 
that  she  was  excited. 

Mrs.  Tom  was  looking  a  little  paler  than 
when  I  had  seen  her  last,  and  was  still  timid 
and  nervous,  as  though  she  had  committed  a 
great  sin  for  which  she  greatly  desired  forgive 
ness,  but  in  all  other  respects  she  was  so  much 
like  her  old  self  that  it  did  me  good  to  see 
her. 

She  had  been  quite  economical  with  her  money, 
it  seemed,  for  everything  she  had  on  I  had  seen 
before,  and  her  baggage  consisted  of  a  very 
small  and  modest  hand-bag,  which  she  hoped 
would  not  be  stolen.  I  was  quite  proud  of 
her  appearance  till  I  remembered  that  no  one 
appreciated  Mrs.  Tom  until  they  had  known 
her  awhile,  but  as  I  walked  back  to  the  store 


312  A   MAN  STORY. 

I  thought  no  one  could  fail  to  admire  such  a 
neat,  pretty  woman  as  she  was,  even  at  first 
glance. 

I  told  Uncle  Tom  as  calmly  as  I  could  that 
Mrs.  Tom  was  at  the  hotel,  and  wished  to  see 
him,  if  he  could  make  it  convenient;  and  he 
said  of  course  he  would  see  her,  with  as  little 
emotion  as  he  might  have  shown  in  quoting  the 
price  of  an  article  in  his  store. 

This  was  not  very  encouraging,  but  I  noticed 
that  his  manner  changed  at  once,  and  that  he 
did  whatever  he  was  about  with  a  nervousness 
which  he  could  not  control. 

He  said  he  had  a  number  of  letters  to  write 
before  he  could  call  at  the  hotel  with  me,  and 
while  he  was  about  it  in  the  office  at  the  rear 
of  the  store  I  sat  down  near  him,  and  waited, 
and  he  kept  up  his  studied  indifference  by  ask 
ing  me,  as  he  folded  letter  after  letter,  how  Joe 
Tack's  saw-mill  enterprise  was  flourishing,  how 
Mrs.  Footit  was,  arid  how  my  grandfathers 
were,  supposing  Mrs.  Tom  had  already  told  me 
the  gossip  of  Fog  Lake.  I  remarked  this  par- 


A    MAN'S    STORY.  313 

ticularly,  because  when  I  had  called  on  him  in 
the  City  he  did  not  speak  to  me  for  hours  at 
a  time,  but  now  he  was  anxious  to  be  polite, 
precisely  as  he  would  have  been  polite  to  any 
one,  and  I  feared  that  he  would  be  equally 
indifferent  to  Mrs.  Tom;  he  would  apply  his 
new  rule  to  her,  and  treat  her  with  the 
same  politeness  he  would  a  farmer's  wife  with 
eggs  to  sell. 

He  had  a  list  of  the  letters  he  was  to  write, 
and  checked  them  off  as  he  went  along,  and 
just  before  beginning  the  last  one  he  asked 
me  to  step  over  to  the  hotel  and  say  to  Mrs. 
Tom  that  he  desired  to  meet  her  easily  and 
without  restraint,  as  he  might  a  casual  ac 
quaintance;  and  as  the  hotel  was  only  a  little 
way  from  the  store,  I  had  performed  the 
errand  and  returned  before  he  had  entirely 
finished  the  last  letter.  As  soon  as  this  was 
enclosed  in  an  envelope  and  directed,  he  put 
on  his  hat,  and  went  out  with  me,  stopping 
at  the  post-office  on  his  way,  where  he  mailed 
his  letters,  and  looked  over  the  mail  in  his 


314  A   MAN  STORY. 

box  with  an  air  of  business  concern.  Indeed, 
I  expected  him  to  return  to  the  store  at  once, 
and  answer  the  letters  he  had  found  in  his 
box,  but  he  did  not,  and  walked  with  me 
toward  the  hotel,  speaking  politely  and  pleas 
antly  to  those  he  met,  and  stopping  to  talk 
to  a  few  of  them,  but  always  on  business.. 

Arriving  at  the  hotel,  he  lingered  a  moment 
at  the  entrance  to  say  a  word  to  the  propri 
etor, —  something  he  had  been  inquiring  for  had 
arrived  at  the  store,  —  and  then  went  on  upstairs 
to  the  parlor,  where  I  had  told  him  Mrs.  Tom 
was  waiting. 

At  sight  of  him  Mrs.  Tom  showed  signs  of 
breaking  down,  but  only  for  a  moment,  for 
Uncle  Tom  greeted  her  with  a  quiet  uncon 
cern  that  would  have  restored  any  one,  —  as 
he  might  have  greeted  a  friend's  wife  whom 
he  knew  but  slightly,  an  acquaintance  of  a 
month,  or  a  stranger  who  had  business  with 
him.  He  must  have  known  that  she  had 
come  to  Hooper  particularly  to  see  him;  but 
he  inquired  if  she  had  been  delayed  there, 


A   MAN'S   STORY.  315 

and  when  she  was  going  on ;  to  all  of  which 
Mrs.  Tom  replied  in  the  simplest  way:  she 
had  not  been  delayed;  she  would  return  home 
that  night,  and  was  not  going  on,  etc.  The 
conversation  between  them  was  easy  and  nat 
ural,  much  more  so  than  I  had  imagined  pos 
sible  ;  and  I  remember  the  first  thing  said  was, 
."How  do  you  do?"  from  Uncle  Tom,  to 
which  Mrs.  Tom  replied  that  she  was  quite 
well.  For  a  moment  it  seemed  out  of  place 
to  me  that  two  old  friends  as  they  were 
should  be  so  constrained;  but  in  a  little  while 
they  acted  quite  naturally,  and  Uncle  Tom 
spoke  of  their  past  at  considerable  length, 
Mrs.  Tom  looking  at  him,  and  listening  with 
her  old  veneration,  to  which  had  been  added 
a  touching  timidity. 

"There  is  one  part  of  my  life  that  I  want 
to  tell  you,"  Uncle  Tom  said,  "  as  much  in 
justice  to  you  as  to  myself,  and  you  will 
excuse  me,  I  hope,  if  I  seem  to  make  a  long 
story  of  it.  I  will  also  speak  plainly  of  mat 
ters  which  might  once  have  been  disagreeable 


316  A   MAN  STORY. 

to  both  of  us,  because  of  an  unwise  senti 
mentality,  but  which  we  may  now  speak  of 
with  as  little  concern  as  we  might  refer  to 
the  foolish  fancies  of  our  youth. 

"Mrs.  Barnaby  was  a  handsome  girl,  as  she 
is  still  a  handsome  woman,  and  I  imagined  I 
was  in  love  with  her.  I  never  imagined  I 
loved  her  as  much  as  I  know  I  loved  you, 
but  as  is  usual  with  very  young  men  when 
concerned  in  an  affair  of  this  kind,  I  believed 
that  Mrs.  Barnaby  as  a  girl  was  a  sort  of 
angel  who  had  none  of  the  human  weaknesses 
I  despised  in  myself.  Young  men  of  little  ex 
perience  are  apt  to  make  this  mistake ;  but 
when  I  loved  you  I  knew  as  much  of  women 
as  men  ever  know,  and  I  am  certain  I  thought 
more  of  you,  though  I  knew  you  to  be  a 
woman,  than  I  ever  did  of  Mrs.  Barnaby, 
though  I  believed  her  to  be  an  angel.  There 
was  this  difference  between  my  love  for  you 
and  my  love  for  Mrs.  Barnaby :  I  knew  you, 
and  I  didn't  know  her;  but  I  suppose  I  loved 
Mrs.  Barnaby,  an£  I  believe  I  was  proud  of 


A   MAN'S   STORY.  317 

the  alliance  I  made  with  her.  An  hour  before 
we  were  married,  however,  she  displeased  me 
and  became  displeased  herself  because  anything 
she  should  do  should  offend  me.  We  have 
never  recovered  from  that  quarrel;  we  both 
promised  to  love  and  honor  with  the  mental 
reservation  that  the  other  must  first  give  in. 

"  The  stubbornness  which  I  practised  then 
was  wicked,  and  I  paid  the  penalty  by  lead 
ing  a  wretched  life,  but  it  was  my  nature, 
and  young  men  are  more  apt  to  be  foolishly 
stubborn  than  those  who  are  older  and  wiser. 
When  I  came  to  you  I  was  so  much  wiser 
that  nothing  could  have  induced  me  to  be 
stubborn  again,  knowing  the  penalty,  but  I 
had  gone  so  far  that  a  reconciliation  was  im 
possible.  I  hated  her,  and  she  knew  it;  she 
hated  me,  and  I  knew  it. 

"  In  course  of  time  I  resolved  upon  a  legal 
separation.  I  would  not  speak  to  her  about 
i<,  as  we  had  lived  apart,  and  not  spoken  to 
each  other,  for  years,  so  I  took  the  necessary 
step  to  secure  a  legal  resylence  in  the  State 


318  A   MAN  STORY. 

where  you  lived,  intending  to  commence  pro 
ceedings  there  for  a  divorce ;  I  imagined  that 
this  would  avoid  publicity,  which  I  dreaded, 
and  did  it  with  good  intentions. 

"After  securing  the  legal  residence — you  may 
not  have  known  before  that  I  owned  a  small 
business  in  a  town  near  Fog  Lake,  which 
I  operated  by  means  of  an  agent  —  the  divorce 
proceedings  were  commenced,  and  all  the 
forms  honestly  complied  with.  Notice  was  sent 
to  Mrs.  Barnaby  by  mail,  as  the  law  required, 
and,  as  she  made  no  reply,  I  supposed  she 
believed,  as  I  did,  that  a  divorce  was  the 
best  thing  possible  in  our  case.  We  were 
hopelessly  estranged,  and  there  was  no  reason 
why  she  should  not  agree  to  it,  for  none  of 
my  allegations  were  discreditable  to  her,  and 
I  had  no  intention  of  wronging  her  in  any 
way. 

"  During  this  time  I  lived  under  the  same 
roof  with  her  when  in  the  City,  and  saw  her 
occasionally,  but  she  never  spoke  to  me  nor  I 
to  her. 


A    MAN'S    STORY.  319 

"In  course  of  time  the  trial  came  on,  and, 
as  she  made  no  defence,  the  divorce  was  granted. 
I  never  suspected  that  she  did  not  have  full 
knowledge  of  the  proceedings,  and,  when  I  re 
turned  to  the  City,  I  imagined  that  we  would 
get  together  in  course  of  time,  and  amicably 
divide  our  possessions  in  the  presence  of 
mutual  friends.  But  she  was  out  of  town,  and 
did  not  return  for  several  months,  which  I 
accepted  as  further  evidence  that  she  was 
content  with  what  I  had  done. 

"  I  need  not  speak  of  my  meeting  with 
you,  further  than  that  I  first  met  you  after 
the  divorce  was  granted,  and  while  in  Fog 
Lake  on  a  hunting  expedition.  Your  uncle 
simply  knew  that  I  was  from  the  City,  and, 
with  a  view  of  inducing  me  to  invest  in  some 
of  his  schemes,  he  showed  me  rather  marked 
attention;  indeed,  he  invited  me  to  his  house, 
where  I  saw  a  quiet  girl  whom  they  tried  to 
keep  out  of  the  way  as  much  as  possible. 
They  regarded  you  of  so  little  importance  that 
they  did  not  even  introduce  me  to  you, 


320  A   MAN  STORY. 

though  we  became  acquainted,  and  you  inter 
ested  me,  and  after  that  I  made  regular  trips 
to  Fog  Lake  when  there  was  no  fishing  or 
shooting.  You  remember  all  that;  but  you 
may  not  remember  that  the  people  made  un 
kind  remarks  concerning  my  attentions  to  you, 
believing  me  to  be  an  adventurer,  and  this 
was  one  reason  why  I  proposed  that  we  be 
married  in  such  haste;  and  another  reason 
was  that  I  found  in  you  the  woman  I  wanted. 
Your  gentle  amiability  and  your  great  confi 
dence  in  me  were  delightful  revelations  after 
my  harsh  experiences  with  life,  and  I  became 
hopelessly  infatuated  with  the  magic  of  your 
presence ;  your  gentle  voice  soothed  the  war 
in  my  heart,  and  your  soft  touch  lulled  me 
into  a  sense  of  peace  I  had  never  known 
before. 

"I  did  wrong  in  not  telling  you  of  Mrs. 
Barnaby,  but  it  was  not  a  pleasant  subject, 
and  I  kept  putting  it  off;  perhaps  I  did 
wrong  in  marrying  you  so  hastily,  but  my 
coming  to  see  you  so  often  attracted  unfavor- 


A    MAN'S    STORY.  321 

able  comment,  and  we  were  married  on  an 
hour's  notice. 

"  I  pretended  to  be  a  travelling  salesman 
for  Barnaby  &  Co.  originally  to  prevent  your 
uncle  buying  goods  of  me,  for  I  imagined  we 
did  not  want  his  trade ;  so  you  married  me  with 
that  impression.  I  kept  the  secret  at  first 
with  the  hope  of  giving  you  a  pleasant  sur 
prise,  and  was  always  planning  to  take  you 
to  a  home  in  the  City,  where  you  would 
discover  that  I  was  more  of  a  man  than  even 
you  had  imagined  in  your  palatable  charity. 

"  When  I  returned  home  after  our  marriage 
I  found  to  my  dismay  and  horror  that  Mrs. 
Barnaby  had  also  returned  from  one  of  her  long 
visits  among  friends,  and  that  she  professed 
never  to  have  heard  of  the  divorce  proceed 
ings.  She  made  the  announcement  by  burst 
ing  into  my  room  with  the  ferocity  of  a  tiger, 
and  accused  me  of  duplicity,  dishonor,  and 
meanness.  I  procured  affidavits  showing  that 
notice  had  been  sent  her  as  the  law  required, 
but,  as  she  was  away  from  home  a  good  deal, 


322  A    MAN   STORY. 

the  papers  had  been  mislaid,  and  had  only 
turned  up  recently.  Their  turning  up  at  all 
was  the  best  evidence  possible  that  I  had  acted 
honestly  and  in  good  faith,  but  she  would  not 
so  see  it,  and  believed  that  I  had  wronged  her. 
"  For  years  before  that  we  had  not  spoken, 
but  regularly  after  this  she  came  into  my 
room  and  reproached  me  in  the  most  cruel 
manner.  At  first  I  tried  to  convince  her  that 
it  was  for  the  best ;  that,  since  I  had  not 
endeavored  to  take  advantage  of  her  property 
right,  there  was  no  reason  why  she  should 
complain,  even  though  she  had  been  tricked, 
for  she  must  admit  that  we  would  never  live 
together,  and  would  be  better  off  apart;  but 
nothing  that  I  could  say  did  any  good,  and 
she  announced  one  night  that  she  would  com 
mence  proceedings  to  set  the  divorce  aside. 
I  then  made  an  appeal  to  her  so  strong  that 
I  shall  always  hate  her  because  it  did  not 
move  her,  but  she  rejoiced  in  my  misery,  and 
commenced  the  suit,  using  my  means  to  hu 
miliate  and  injure  me. 


A    MAN'S    STORY.  323 

"  I  had  the  best  of  it  from  the  first,  for 
all  my  proceedings  had  been  honestly  con 
ducted,  but  she  had  capable  attorneys  in  her 
employ,  who  managed  to  prevent  a  decision. 
I  won  in  the  court  which  originally  granted 
the  divorce,  because  the  officers  themselves 
knew  I  had  not  acted  in  a  deceptive  manner ; 
I  clearly  established  that  the  notice  required 
by  law  had  been  given,  but  the  other  side 
took  an  appeal  to  a  higher  and  slower  court. 

"I  do  not  think  she  suspected  that  I  had 
married  again,  but  it  is  possible  that  she  be 
lieved  I  had  such  an  intention,  so  she  pro 
tracted  the  suit,  and  the  expenses  were  enor 
mous,  as  I  had  reason  to  know,  for  I  was 
compelled  to  pay  the  bills. 

"All  this  time  I  was  your  husband,  and, 
in  spite  of  the  uncomfortable  condition  of  my 
affairs,  I  loved  you  so  much,  and  you  were 
so  useful  to  me,  that  I  was  more  content 
than  I  had  ever  been  before.  I  occasionally 
had  pangs  of  remorse  because  I  did  not  tell 
you  of  my  situation,  but  I  believed  you  had 


324  A    MAN   STORY. 

the  utmost  confidence  in  me,  and  so  I  re 
solved  that  I  would  not  make  the  disclosure 
until  after  the  matter  was  decided  in  my 
favor,  as  I  was  certain  it  would  be.  My 
judgment  was  right;  the  final  decision  was 
rendered  a  month  ago,  and  the  original  decree 
was  declared  legal  and  valid;  you  were  an 
honorable  wife." 

Mrs.  Tom  made  a  move  as  if  she  would  go 
to  her  husband,  but  he  held  up  his  hand  in 
remonstrance. 

"During  all  this  time  I  staked  my  hope  of 
the  future  on  your  confidence  in  me,  which 
you  so  often  expressed,  but  at  the  critical 
moment  it  failed  you.  You  were  like  many 
other  women:  you  were  human,  although  you 
often  seemed  divine.  All  the  humiliation  Mrs. 
Barnaby  heaped  upon  me  in  years  did  not 
equal  the  humiliation  you  heaped  upon  me  in 
a  moment  by  refusing  to  see  me,  and  hear 
what  I  had  to  say.  Although  you  never  said 
so,  I  had  no  doubt  you  would  have  given 
your  life  to  me ;  it  was  my  fault  that  I  for- 


A    MAN'S    STORY.  325 

got  your  humanity,  and  believed  that  for  once 
this  lover's  declaration  was  true.  I  believed 
that  had  I  hoisted  a  window  in  a  high  build 
ing,  and  said  that  it  was  necessary  for  you  to 
jump  out,  you  would  have  said  a  hurried 
good-by  to  me,  and  plunged  out  without  the 
slightest  hesitation. 

"It  was  my  fault  that  I  had  such  con 
fidence  in  your  trust  in  me ;  my  better  sense 
should  have  taught  me  that  you  were  only  a 
woman,  after  all.  During  that  walk  through 
the  woods,  when  Mrs.  Barnaby  was  accusing 
me  at  every  step  of  meanness  and  villany,  I 
boasted  of  your  confidence  in  me,  and  said 
that  when  she  saw  you,  she  would  see  a 
woman  a  man  could  love  and  die  for.  It  was 
the  first  time  I  ever  boasted  in  my  life,  and 
Mrs.  Barnaby  was  present  to  see  my  humilia 
tion. 

"Although  I  pretended  that  I  did  not,  I 
believed  all  you  ever  said  to  me  during  our 
love  affair,  and  all  that  your  actions  implied. 
I  knew  from  long  experience  with  the  world 


326  A    MAN   STORY. 

what  a  mythical  thing  love  is.  The  best  of 
women  have  numerous  love  affairs  before  they 
finally  marry  and  settle  down,  and  no  one 
knew  better  than  I  did  that  they  repeated  the 
same  story  to  the  second,  third,  or  fourth 
fancy  that  had  delighted  the  first :  that  he 
was  handsome,  brave,  generous,  and  talented; 
that  she  could  not  live  without  him ;  that  she 
would  cheerfully  die  to  serve  him ;  that  life 
was  a  burden  without  him,  and  a  joy  with 
him;  that  there  was  but  one  true  love,  and 
that  he  had  hers,  —  I  knew  this  because  it 
was  human  nature,  and  human  nature  never 
changes;  but  notwithstanding  this  knowledge, 
and  the  knowledge  that  the  men  are  still 
worse,  I  believed  all  you  said  to  me,  and 
cherished  the  memory  of  it. 

"  There  was  one  difference  between  me  and 
the  ordinary  lover:  when  you  said  I  was  brave, 
and  handsome,  and  good,  I  knew  better,  but 
I  thought  it  had  pleased  God  to  send  me  a 
wife  who  really  thought  so,  and  I  did  all  I 
could  to  deserve  your  good  opinion.  The  good 


A    MAN'S   STORY.  327 

things  you  believed  of  me  did  me  no  harm, 
but  I  tried  so  hard  to  deserve  them  that  they 
made  me  better.  There  are  moments  when  the 
strongest  men  become  children  again ;  I  once 
knew  a  baby  that  would  cry  when  any  one 
said  it  was  a  bad  boy,  and  try  to  deserve 
the  confidence  of  the  friend  who  insisted  that 
he  was  really  a  good  boy.  There  is  not  as 
much  difference  between  a  man  and  a  child 
as  is  generally  believed. 

"  I  refused  to  live  with  Mrs.  Barnaby  be 
cause  I  hated  her,  and  she  hated  me,  and 
because  I  knew  my  humiliation  would  be  con 
stant  should  I  pretend  to  forget  the  past, 
knowing  that  she  would  still  entertain  the 
unfavorable  opinion  of  me  she  had  so  often 
expressed.  I  refuse  to  live  with  you  because 
I  love  you,  and  because  I  believe  that  while 
I  married  you  as  I  would  have  married  no 
other  woman,  and  from  motives  of  the  purest 
love,  you  married  me  because  it  seemed  to 
your  interest,  and  as  you  would  have  married 
any  other  man  who  promised  fairly  well. 


328  A    MAN  STORY. 

This  would  be  on  my  mind  constantly,  and  I 
should  feel  humiliated  by  the  recollection  when 
ever  I  thought  of  you;  the  pretty  things  you 
might  say  and  do  in  the  future  I  should  re 
gard  as  duty,  with  the  unsteady  foundation 
which  I  have  discovered  that  love  rests  upon. 
Perhaps  you  will  better  understand  me  if  I 
say  that  I  so  long  believed  you  to  be  an  ideal 
woman  that  I  cannot  bring  myself  to  the 
realization  that,  after  all,  you  are  a  real  human 
woman ;  I  was  so  utterly  spoilt  during  my 
infatuation  that  I  would  not  be  satisfied  with 
you  now.  I  fear  that  the  sad  experience  of 
Old  Barnaby  and  Mrs.  Barnaby  would  be  re 
peated  ;  so  I  have  determined  to  live  by  a 
new  philosophy,  —  the  philosophy  of  common 
sense,  based  on  a  knowledge  of  human  nature. 
In  future  I  shall  love  the  book,  or  house,  or 
horse  I  otvn,  precisely  as  much  as  I  love  my 
friends  and  acquaintances ;  I  shall  love  the 
houses  and  horses  more,  for  while  my  friends 
are  certain  to  disappoint  me,  the  horses  and 
houses  never  will,  for  I  shall  expect  nothing 


A    MAN'S    STORY.  329 

from  them.  Another  disappointment  of  the  kind 
I  had  with  you  would  kill  me  ;  I  cannot 
afford  to  fall  in  love  again.  At  present  I  love 
you  as  much  as  I  ever  did,  but  I  shall  no 
doubt  get  over  it." 

It  was  plain  to  be  seen  that  he  had  been 
having  a  weary  time  trying  to  get  over  his 
love  for  Mrs.  Tom;  his  manner  indicated  it, 
but  his  manner  also  indicated  that  he  would 
keep  on  trying. 

Mrs.  Tom  heard  the  story  through  as  a 
wretched  prisoner  might  hear  his  condemna 
tion  to  death ;  she  did  not  move  or  speak,  but 
there  was  an  expression  of  helpless  sorrow  on 
her  face  that  was  pitiful  to  see.  When  she 
did  speak  it  was  as  a  condemned  prisoner 
might  address  a  just  judge,  and  excuse  his 
crime  as  much  as  possible. 

"I  shall  return  home  to-night,"  she  said, 
"and  spend  my  life  in  praying  for  your  for 
giveness,  and  in  praying  that  you  will  take 
me  back.  I  believe  I  can  understand  why 
you  feel  so  bitter  toward  me,  for  I  can  never 


330  A    MAN   STORY. 

hope  to  convince  you  that  you  had  the  trust 
and  confidence  from  me  that  you  once  be 
lieved  you  had.  When  they  told  me  that  you 
had  sent  for  me,  and  were  in  trouble,  my 
strength  left  me ;  but  it  was  all  because  of 
the  trouble  you  were  in;  as  I  live,  I  never 
once  thought  of  myself;  never  have  I  doubted 
that  you  were  right.  When  I  started  just  now 
at  your  announcement  that  I  was  an  honor 
able  wife,  it  was  because  of  joy  that  my 
opinion  of  you  had  turned  out  true;  it  was 
joy  over  my  husband's  triumph ;  I  cared 
nothing  for  myself;  if  you  were  ever  so 
wrong,  I  should  ask  no  greater  blessing  than 
that  you  take  me  back.  If  you  should  tell 
me  you  were  wrong,  I  should  believe  in  secret 
that  you  were  right,  and  that  you  manfully 
accepted  a  burden  to  which  you  were  not  en 
titled.  You  used  to  say  you  were  glad  I 
didn't  know  anything;  I  had  hoped  that  this 
feeling  might  cause  you  to  excuse  my  not 
knowing  what  to  do  at  a  critical  time,  but  I 
feel  now  that  you  never  will,  though  I  do  not 


A    MAN'S    STORY.  331 

blame  you.  Everything  you  do  seems  right  to 
me;  it  has  always  seemed  so.  I  shall  always 
feel  as  kindly  toward  you,  and  love  you  as 
much  as  though  you  had  taken  me  back. 
Won't  you  kiss  me  once  more?" 

She  looked  up  at  him  timidly  out  of  her 
soft  eyes,  which  were  full  of  tears,  and  Uncle 
Tom  stepped  over  and  did  as  he  was  re 
quested. 

"Thank  you,"  she  said,  brightening  a  little, 
as  he  sat  down  nearer  to  her.  "I  know  that 
I  wronged  you  at  the  most  critical  time  in 
your  life,  but  I  did  not  intend  to." 

"I  covet  your  good  opinion  as  much  as  I 
ever  did,"  he  said,  "  and  it  pleases  me  to 
know  that  you  think  I  am  right,  though  I 
am  not.  There  are  men  who  are  unjust  to 
the  \vomen  they  love  because  injustice  delights 
them,  but  I  hope  you  will  acquit  me  of  that; 
my  stubbornness  is  monstrous,  I  know,  though 
I  cannot  help  it.  I  wonder  that  I  hold  you 
responsible  for  my  humiliation,  for  when  I 
forget  that,  you  are  more  to  me  now  than 


332  A    MAN   STORY. 

you  ever  were ;  I  have  been  so  restless  of  late 
that  even  yonr  presence  in  the  town  rests  me. 
I  should  have  known  of  your  arrival  had  I 
not  been  told  of  it;  you  change  the  air  about 
you,  I  think,  and  it  does  me  good  to  breathe 
it.  But  after  you  are  gone,  my  sober  sense 
will  tell  me  that  I  drank  the  draught  that 
intoxicated  me,  and  then  praised  it.  I  believe 
that  it  is  for  the  best  that  we  never  live  to 
gether  again.  I  wronged  you  in  not  telling 
you  of  Mrs.  Barnaby,  and  you  can  never  for 
get  it;  you  may  think  you  have  forgotten  it, 
but  really  you  have  not,  and  you  never  can. 
No  amount  of  apology  or  repentance  ever 
atones  for  a  wrong  you  have  suffered,  and 
while  you  did  right  in  refusing  to  see  me,  I 
was  so  firmly  convinced  that  you  would  see 
me,  that  I  can  never  feel  right  about  it  again. 
My  stubbornness  is  more  the  recollection  of  a 
wrong  than  a  crime,  though  it  is  a  crime 
against  myself;  I  sincerely  hope  that  you  do 
not  suffer  because  of  it  as  I  do.  Were  it  not 
cowardly  I  would  kill  myself  to  get  rid  of 


A    MAN'S    STORY.  333 

ray  trouble.  I  try  to  be  (Sensible,  but  I  can 
not;  I  can  do  no  better  than  I  am  doing,  and 
I  could  not  do  worse.  I  find  that  the  spark 
of  love  you  kindled  into  a  flame  is  as  stub 
born  as  my  hate  for  Mrs.  Barnaby  was;  surely 
you  cannot  forgive  that?" 

"I  never  thought  unkindly  of  you  in  my 
life,"  Mrs.  Tom  answered;  "I  never  shall." 

"You  are  receiving  but  a  wretched  return 
for  your  faith  in  me,"  he  said  in  reply, 
"  though  I  once  promised  so  much,  and  would 
have  fulfilled  every  promise  had  I  not  been 
stunned  by  a  hard  blow.  Let  me  say,  in 
order  that  you  may  better  understand  me, 
that  I  cannot  separate  your  motive  from  a 
selfish  one ;  it  seems  to  me  you  came  here  not 
because  you  love  me,  as  I  once  believed  you 
did,  but  because  you  felt  that  you  would  be 
better  off  with  me  than  you  would  be  living 
alone  at  Fog  Lake.  I  want  to  believe  that 
you  love  me  as  I  once  thought  you  did,  but 
my  own  weakness  causes  me  to  doubt  it.  I 
am  willing  to  forgive  your  humanity,  but  the 


334  A    MAN   STORY. 

ideal  love  I  thought  I  possessed  was  so  grate 
ful  and  helpful  to  me  that  I  can  never  be 
satisfied  with  any  other.  I  am  not  a  good 
man,  but  somehow  I  think  I  am,  and  mourn 
because  others  are  not  equally  honest  and  sin 
cere.  I  cannot  separate  you  from  the  world, 
as  I  once  did,  and  the  attention  I  should 
pay  you  in  the  future  would  seem  the  atten 
tion  of  a  silly  man  to  an  idol  in  which  he 
was  mistaken.  I  once  thought  your  love  was 
worth  all  my  energy,  but  I  should  now  feel 
like  a  victim;  like  a  man  who  is  always  giv 
ing  and  never  receiving. 

"I  could  do  that  with  Chance,  but  with  you, 
the  one  I  love  most  in  all  the  world,  I  could 
not ;  it  is  one  of  the  strange  things  of  that 
which  we  call  love.  It  is  horrible  to  say  it, 
but  while  I  have  forgiven  Mrs.  Barnaby, 
whom  I  hated,  I  cannot  forgive  you,  whom  I 
love,  though  I  hope  you  will  be  as  charita 
ble  with  me  as  you  can.  It  does  not  seem 
possible  that  I  can  ever  become  indifferent  to 
you,  but  I  really  believe  that  I  shall ;  I  believe 


A    MAN'S    STORY.  335 

that  you  will  become  indifferent  to  me,  arid 
that  we  will  both  agree  after  a  time  that  we 
were  wise  in  not  attempting  to  live  together 
again.  A  love  affair  once  seriously  interfered 
with  can  never  be  entirely  made  up;  love  is 
such  a  tender  flower  that  when  it  is  wounded, 
either  by  accident  or  design,  it  can  never  be 
strong  again.  Good-by." 

Quickly  catching  her  face  in  his  hands,  he 
kissed  her  lips,  and  was  gone. 

Mrs.  Tom  believed  he  had  left  the  place 
for  good,  and  would  never  return,  as  he  had 
steadily  refused  to  return  to  the  City,  and  I 
went  out  to  look  for  him.  He  was  not  to  be 
found,  but  I  assured  her  that  he  would  return 
after  her  departure.  It  was  a  cruel  thing  to 
say,  but  I  did  not  think  how  it  sounded 
until  Mrs.  Tom's  sobbing  reminded  me. 

But  she  knew  it  was  true,  and  made  prep 
arations  to  depart. 

The  train  she  was  to  take  was  not  due 
for  an  hour  or  more,  and  we  walked  around 
awhile,  passing  the  store  and  the  house,  both 


336  A    MAN  STORK 

of  which  she  looked  at  admiringly,  because 
they  belonged  to  him.  I  wanted  her  to  go  in 
the  house,  but  she  would  not,  though  she 
was  interested  when  I  pointed  out  the  window 
where  he  usually  sat  at  night,  and  looked 
toward  Fog  Lake.  I  was  sorry  I  could  not 
point  out  the  pathway  of  stars,  which  could 
always  be  seen  at  night,  and  she  said  she 
would  try  to  find  it  after  her  return  home. 

She  cried  a  little  after  I  had  seated  her 
in  one  of  the  cars,  when  the  train  arrived, 
but  she  was  more  cheerful  when  I  said  I  was 
coming  to  see  her  soon,  though  I  detected  a 
little  sob  when  she  finally  said  .good-by. 

Uncle  Tom  did  not  return  that  night,  but 
from  his  window  I  saw  the  stars  in  the 
pathway  come  out  one  by  one,  and  felt  that 
he  was  watching  it,  as  though  Mrs.  Tom 
was  really  travelling  it  on  her  weary  journey 
home. 


A    BAD    NIGHT.  337 


CHAPTER    XXV. 

A    BAD    NIGHT. 

UNCLE  TOM  was  at  the  store  as  usual  next 
morning,  and  while  I  thought  he  had  been 
watching  for  me  to  appear,  he  said  nothing  of 
the  events  of  the  day  before.  I  did  not  know 
where  he  had  spent  the  night,  but  I  imag 
ined,  from  the  large  number  of  letters  for 
the  mail  that  morning,  that  he  had  spent 
much  of  the  time  in  writing  to  customers, 
and  calling  their  personal  attention  to  his 
facilities  for  supplying  their  wants. 

It  may  have  been  the  result  of  a  bad 
night,  but  I  thought  he  looked  unusually 
pale  that  day,  and  this  caused  me  to  wonder 
if  he  had  not  been  failing  for  some  time,  as 
a  result  of  the  wretched  way  in  which  he 
lived,  and  the  too  vigorous  manner  in  which 
he  worked.  But  he  seemed  determined  to 


338  A    MAN   STORY. 

shake  it  off,  for  I  had  never  before  seen 
him  so  interested  in  his  business.  He  re 
ceived  almost  every  customer  that  came  in, 
and  tried  to  become  as  much  interested  in 
them  as  he  was  in  Mrs.  Tom,  and  inquired 
with  the  greatest  cordiality  after  absent  ac 
quaintances  ;  but  for  all  this  I  knew  he 
spent  a  wretched  day. 

He  went  to  sleep  in  his  chair  that  night, 
and  when  I  looked  into  his  room  before  re 
tiring,  I  saw  his  face  was  flushed  and  fever 
ish,  and  that  he  was  breathing  rapidly.  In 
the  middle  of  the  night  he  awakened  me, 
and  said  he  believed  he  was  ill,  and  asked 
me  to  to  do  him  some  small  favor.  In 
rambling  about  the  house  I  disturbed  the 
sleep  of  old  Archie,  and  when  I  told  him  what 
I  wanted,  and  why  I  wanted  it,  he  commenced 
grumbling  because  of  Uncle  Tom's  refusal  to 
take  certain  bitters  he  had  offered  him  several 
months  before.  The  old  negro,  I  then  dis 
covered,  had  noticed  his  master's  tendency 
to  break  down  some  time  before,  and  he 


A    BAD    NIGHT.  339 

grumbled  around  most  of  the  night  because 
his  advice  had  not  been  taken  sooner. 

He  appeared  at  the  store  at  rather  a  late 
hour  the  next  morning,  but  did  not  remain 
long,  and  soon  wrapped  himself  up  and  re 
turned  home,  walking  away  in  a  manner  so 
weak  and  unsteady  that  it  was  surprising  in 
one  usually  so  strong. 

At  the  close  of  the  day,  when  1  followed 
him,  he  talked  quite  freely  of  his  condition, 
and  expressed  the  opinion  that  it  was  due 
to  his  inability  to  sleep.  Many  nights,  he 
said,  he  did  not  close  his  eyes  at  all,  and 
he  had  not  slept  soundly  for  a  long  time. 
He  had  been  talking  with  a  medical  man 
during  the  day,  who  had  advised  him  that 
he  needed  rest. 

"But  the  trouble  is,"  Uncle  Tom  said, 
"I  cannot  take  it.  I  wish  I  could  go  back 
to  Fog  Lake ;  I  would  soon  rest  up  in  the 
company  of  Mrs.  Tom." 

This  was  a  matter  of  wonder  to  me,  and  I 
could  make  nothing  of  it;  he  said  he  could 


340  A    MAN  STORY. 

soon  rest  up  in  the  company  of  Mrs.  Tom, 
yet  he  had  just  sent  Mrs.  Tom  away.  But 
I  have  heard  men  say  that  much  that  was 
strange  to  them  in  their  youth  was  perfectly 
plain  in  their  manhood. 

He  was  quite  cheerful  about  the  matter, 
though,  further  than  that  he  said  he  had  a 
horror  of  being  alone  at  night,  so  I  arranged 
with  old  Archie  to  remain  with  him  until 
one  o'clock  in  the  morning,  when  he  was  to 
call  me,  and  I  would  remain  until  daylight, 
or  until  he  fell  asleep.  He  did  not  know  of 
the  arrangement,  but  he  seemed  glad  to  have 
even  old  Archie  with  him,  for  as  I  tried  to 
get  to  sleep  in  an  adjoining  room  I  heard 
them  talking  of  old  times  in  Virginia,  where 
Archie  had  been  a  slave,  and  where  he  had 
seen  spirits,  and  all  that  sort  of  thing. 
Archie  had  been  a  good  man  himself,  I 
gathered  from  their  talk,  but  there  was  a 
certain  slave  man  on  the  plantation  where  he 
was  brought  up  who  ran  away  whenever 
there  was  the  slightest  opportunity,  whereupon 


A    BAD    NIGHT.  341 

the  dogs  were  brought  out  to  chase  him,  and 
the  dogs  were  baying  in  a  peculiar  way  at 
the  foot  of  a  tree  when  I  went  to  sleep. 
I  remember  thinking,  the  last  thing  before 
going  to  sleep,  that  I  would  ask  Archie 
in  the  morning  whether  the  slave  man  had 
really  climbed  the  tree,  and  what  happened 
to  him  when  he  was  returned  home. 

When  I  awoke  again  I  had  a  consciousness  of 
having  been  called,  and  that  it  was  time  for  me 
to  relieve  old  Archie.  I  listened  for  a  moment, 
and  discovered  that  the  slave  man  was  probably 
gone  for  good,  for  the  men  and  dogs  had  re 
turned  from  the  hunt,  thoroughly  disheartened. 

Suddenly  the  conversation  changed,  and 
Uncle  Tom  asked  the  negro  if  he  had  ever 
been  in  love.  Old  Archie  almost  suffocated 
himself  with  laughter  in  replying  that  he  had 
been,  often,  and  that  he  had  been  married 
five  times.  Uncle  Tom  asked  him  why  he 
laughed  at  the  thought  of  having  been  in  love ; 
and  though  the  negro  could  not  tell  why  he 
laughed,  he  continued  to  be  greatly  amused. 


342  A    MAN  STORY. 

Which  wife  had  he  loved  the  most?  —  all 
about  the  same,  old  Archie  thought ;  since  he 
hoped  to  meet  them  all  in  heaven  (old  Archie 
was  religious),  which  one  did  he  intend  to 
spend  most  of  his  time  with  ?  —  he  didn't  know 
for  sure,  but  he  expected  it  was  Amanda  ; 
that  would  please  Amanda,  but  how  about  the 
other  four  ?  —  the  other  four  would  have  other 
jewels  to  content  them,  probably;  men  jewels? 
—  oh,  no,  precious  jewels,  to  wear  in  their 
crowns,  for  they  had  been  fond  of  dress  ;  all 
of  them  dead?  —  no,  none  of  them  dead,  so  far 
as  he  knew ;  been  divorced  from  them  ?  —  no, 
from  none  of  them  ;  intend  to  marry  again  ?  — 
no,  had  enough  of  marrying ;  any  particular  sad 
experience?  —  no,  just  had  enough  of  marrying. 
So  the  conversation  went  while  I  was  dress 
ing,  and  the  subject  remained  in  Uncle  Tom's 
mind  after  Archie  had  retired,  for  as  he 
walked  around  with  a  sheet  about  him  —  he 
could  not  remain  in  bed,  and  I  was  fearful 
he  would  catch  cold  —  he  continued  to  talk 
of  the  same  subject. 


A    BAD    NIGHT.  343 

"I  am  only  a  remarkable  man  in  one  par 
ticular,"  Uncle  Tom  saidt  after  old  Archie 
had  disappeared  ;  "  I  can  laugh  at  my  own 
weaknesses.  When  I  was  living  at  Fog  Lake, 
and  announced  an  intention  of  returning  to  my 
work,  Mrs.  Tom  had  a  way  of  saying,  'Don't 
go,'  that  touched  my  heart  as  it  was  never 
touched  before.  There  was  a  world  of  pathos, 
regret,  and  unselfish  love  in  the  way  she  said 
it,  I  thought,  and  I  think  I  was  prouder  of 
that  than  of  anything  else  ;  it  indicated  that 
some  one  mourned  my  absence  arid  enjoyed 
my  presence.  But  one  day  Mrs.  Tack  called 
at  the  house  while  I  was  at  home,  and  when 
she  arose  to  depart,  Mrs.  Tom  said,  '  Don't 
go,'  in  exactly  the  same  tones  she  had  used 
with  me,  although  Mrs.  Tack  was  the  most 
disagreeable  person  I  ever  knew  ;  Mrs.  Tom 
so  considered  her,  I  think.  I  never  mentioned 
it  before,  but  that  was  the  grief  of  my  life 
with  Mrs.  Tom.  It  was  ridiculous  in  me,  but 
I  mourned  a  great  deal  over  that  foolish 
thing ;  after  it  happened,  I  hated  the  man 


344  A    MAN'  STORY. 

Mrs.  Tom  might  have  married  had  I  not 
appeared.  But  for  this  circumstance  I  would 
have  forgiven  Mrs.  Tom  that  night  when  I 
carried  her  in  my  arms  in  the  woods,  and 
when  she  kept  saying,  '  Don't  go ;  don't 
go.'  It  is  brutal  for  me  to  feel  as  I  do 
concerning  a  little  matter,  but  I  am  help 
less,  though  I  hate  myself  for  it.  When  I 
think  how  forgiving  Mrs.  Tom  is,  and  how 
good  she  is,  and  how  stubborn  I  am,  I  fear 
that  I  am  a  very  wicked  man.  Did  you 
notice  when  she  said  the  other  day  that  her 
distress  over  this  affair  was  largely  due  to 
the  circumstance  that  I  was  wretched  too? 
Very  few  women  would  have  thought  of  that; 
Mrs.  Barnaby  always  thought  she  was  a 
martyr,  and  that  I  enjoyed  making  her 
wretched." 

His  speaking  of  the  plaintive  manner  in 
which  Mrs.  Tom  had  said,  "  Don't  go," 
reminded  me  of  her  as  she  wandered  about 
in  the  Brooper  Woods,  calling,  "  Tom,  Tom, 
Tom,"  and  I  mentioned  the  matter.  He  had 


A    BAD    NIGHT.  345 

heard  her,  he  said,  the  night  he  appeared  to 
her,  when  he  happened  to  be  making  the 
same  walk  he  made  with  Mrs.  Barnaby,  and 
when  he  had  little  hope  of  seeing  Mrs.  Tom. 
He  was  coming  back  because  there  was  a 
sort  of  terrible  fascination  in  the  vicinity,  and 
happened  to  meet  us  in  the  woods,  soon 
after  we  entered  the  main  road  after  leaving 
the  stream  leading  from  the  water  station. 
Her  calling  him,  he  said,  had  caused  him  to 
appear  to  her,  but  he  afterwards  thought  she 
might  have  called  any  one  in  the  same  way  ; 
he  was  ashamed  of  it,  but  he  had  thought  of 
it. 

He  was  quite  a  grotesque  object  as  he  sat 
in  his  chair,  wrapped  in  a  quilt,  and  with 
wet  cloths  piled  on  his  feverish  head,  and 
when  I  offered  him  his  medicine  he  refused 
to  take  it,  saying  that  it  did  him  no  good  ; 
his  trouble,  he  said,  could  not  be  reached  by 
medicine  ;  what  he  needed  was  sleep  and  rest, 
and  that  he  could  not  get  ;  that  was  leading 
him  up  to  a  spell  of  sickness,  he  feared,  and 


346  A    MAN  STORY. 

if  Mrs.  Barnaby  heard  of  it,  she  would  come 
to  see  him.  She  knew  where  he  was,  and  if 
she  heard  he  was  very  sick  she  would  cer 
tainly  come  to  see  him;  and  that  would  settle 
it.  She  would  make  him  worse,  and  kill  him. 
By  her  presence  she  would  gloat  over  his 
humiliation,  and  he  could  not  stand  that ;  he 
must  get  sleep  ;  he  must  have  something  to 
make  him  sleep. 

"  Give  me  that  bottle,"  he  said,  turning 
around,  and  pointing  to  a  stand  which  stood 
in  the  room.  "I'll  try  that." 

I  handed  it  to  him,  and  he  drank  half  the 
strong  brandy  it  contained  at  one  draught. 
Soon  after  he  staggered  over  to  the  bed,  and 
laid  down,  and  although  he  fell  asleep  I  do 
not  think  it  rested  him  much,  for  he  tossed 
about,  and  occasionally  sat  up,  and  glared 
wildly  around,  as  though  he  had  been  dream 
ing  of  unpleasant  things.  Lying  down  again, 
he  would  say  he  was  tired,  and  must  sleep. 
Once  he  cried  out,  as  I  have  heard  children 
cry  out  in  alarm,  in  the  night,  and  when  he 


A    BAD    NIGHT.  347 

sprang  up  he  asked  roughly  what  I  was 
doing  there  ;  but  when  he  recognized  me,  he 
laid  down  again.  He  was  so  much  worse 
that  I  should  have  sent  for  the  doctor  had  I 
not  known  that  he  was  due  in  a  little  while, 
for  daybreak  was  close  at  hand,  and  the  stars 
in  the  pathway  were  disappearing.  I  feared 
that  Uncle  Tom  was  seriously  ill;  I  could  not 
help  knowing  it,  for  I  now  realized  that  it 
had  been  coming  on  for  months  as  a  result 
of  his  nervous  unrest,  and  I  thought  that 
after  he  had  grown  steadily  worse,  and 
suffered  a  great  deal,  I  should  stand  in  the 
gray  of  the  morning  at  the  window  where  he 
usually  sat,  and  remark  that  the  stars  in  the 
pathway  had  disappeared,  and  then  turn  to 
find  Uncle  Tom  dead. 


348  A    MAN    STORY. 


CHAPTER    XXVI. 

AN    ANTE-MORTEM    STATEMENT. 

UNCLE  TOM'S  condition  was  so  much  worse 
the  next  day  that  I  arranged  to  remain 
with  him  constantly,  and  though  the  clerks 
from  the  store  occasionally  called  in  the  even 
ing  to  see  him,  they  did  not  remain  long, 
and  I  had  almost  the  entire  care,  with  the 
assistance  of  the  negro  Archie,  who  was  very 
faithful  and  useful,  except  for  his  grumbling 
because  of  Uncle  Tom's  failure  to  take  the 
magic  bitters  he  had  prepared  some  time  be 
fore. 

The  doctor  we  had  called  was  evidently 
puzzled  by  the  case,  and  while  he  was  study 
ing  it  he  acted  as  though  he  thought  that 
nothing  serious  was  the  matter,  but  when  he 
finally  confessed  to  me  that  Uncle  Tom  was 
suffering  from  a  low  fever,  and  I  told  him  of 


AN  ANTE-MORTEM    STATEMENT.  349 

his  restlessness  and  sleeplessness,  he  seemed  to 
understand  it  better. 

In  watching  with  him  at  night,  when  he  was 
quiet  I  occasionally  went  to  sleep,  but  on 
awakening  I  always  found  him  wide-awake; 
sometimes  sitting  in  the  chair  in  front  of  the 
window  looking  toward  Fog  Lake,  and  wrapped 
in  the  bed-clothing ;  at  other  times  I  found 
him  unsteadily  walking  the  floor;  but  he  was 
always  awake  except  when  under  the  influence 
of  opiates,  and  I  often  thought  that  he  was 
quiet  at  times  to  permit  me  to  go  off  to  sleep. 
He  often  said  that  he  would  soon  be  well 
again  if  he  could  sleep  as  easily  as  I  did,  and, 
on  realizing  that  his  great  need  was  rest,  he 
took  doses  of  the  opiates  the  doctor  had  left, 
in  spite  of  my  advice  to  the  contrary,  for  I 
thought  they  did  him  more  harm  than  good; 
he  always  seemed  worse  after  taking  them,  and 
tossed  about  and  muttered  more  than  ever. 

At  these  times  he  was  always  reviewing  his 
case  with  Mrs.  Barnaby;  he  was  anxious  to 
make  her  understand  that  he  had  not  tried  to 


350  A    MAN  STORY. 

wrong  her,  and  that  he  wanted  to  do  that 
which  was  best  for  both  of  them.  I  thought 
he  dreaded  her  hatred,  and  his  explanations 
were  at  times  pitiful ;  he  dreaded  the  thought 
that  he  was  dying,  and  could  not  convince  the 
world  that  he  had  never  deserved  the  horrible 
opinions  she  had  so  often  expressed  of  him, 
and  begged  that  she  would  be  as  fair  with 
him  as  he  had  been  with  her.  He  had  made 
mistakes;  but  could  she  not  see  that  she  should 
share  the  blame?  This  was  often  expressed, 
though  in  different  ways ;  he  acknowledged  his 
wrong,  but  would  she  insist  to  the  edge  of  his 
grave  that  he  was  always  wrong,  and  that  she 
was  always  right  ?  Would  she  not  acknowledge, 
to  comfort  his  few  friends,  that  there  was  at 
least  the  excuse  of  long  vexation  for  his  acts? 
He  asked  this  as  though  he  was  her  prisoner, 
and  as  though  she  was  looking  at  him  fiercely, 
with  instruments  of  torture  ready  to  her  hand; 
he  was  willing  to  die  the  death  she  willed, 
but  pitifully  asked  that  she  acknowledge  her 
share  in  the  evil  that  had  found  its  way  into 


AN  ANTE-MORTEM   STATEMENT.  351 

their  lives.  All  this  was  muttered  at  intervals, 
and  with  long  pauses  between  the  sentences ; 
but  I  understood  it,  and  felt  that  while  Uncle 
Tom  was  willing  to  acknowledge  his  own  faults, 
he  would  never  believe  that  he  was  to  blame 
for  more  than  half  of  that  part  of  his  life 
that  was '  shameful ;  had  his  idol  not  left  the 
sanctuary  to  wander  about  calling  pitifully  for 
help,  to  indicate  that  there  was  rain,  and 
cold,  and  sorrow,  in  his  heaven,  I  thought  his 
confession  to  it  would  have  been :  I  acknowledge 
my  fault;  now  let  Mrs.  Barnaby  acknowledge 
hers. 

With  the  approach  of  day  he  would  rest 
better,  and  occasionally  sleep  quietly;  but  after 
each  tedious  day  his  restlessness  increased  with 
the  going  down  of  the  sun,  and  I  believed  that 
should  he  die  it  would  be  while  under  the 
depressing  influence  of  night;  that  his  strength 
would  gradually  leave  him,  by  reason  of  his 
bad  nights,  and  finally  he  could  no  longer  hold 
out  for  the  coming  of  the  morning,  and  that 
when  the  sun  looked  into  his  room  it  would 


352  A    MAN   STORY. 

find  him  quiet  at  last,  and  that  the  coming  of 
night  would  not  again  disturb  him. 

One  night  he  called  for  writing  materials, 
and  wrote  a  long  time  while  propped  up  in 
bed,  though  slowly  and  with  unsteady  hand, 
for  he  was  rapidly  losing  his  strength.  When 
the  envelope  was  directed,  I  found  it  was  for 
Mrs.  Barnaby,  but  Uncle  Tom  told  me  it  was 
not  to  be  delivered  until  he  was  dead ;  ho 
left  the  letter  with  me,  and  trusted  to  me  to 
carry  out  his  instructions.  I  read  the  letter, 
and  will  submit  it  to  the  reader.  It  began 
and  ended  as  abruptly  as  I  give  it  here,  and 
contained  no  signature  :  — 

"I  believe  I  am  fatally  ill,  and  I  write  this 
on  what  I  regard  as  my  death-bed ;  if  I  am 
called  upon  for  an  excuse  of  my  conduct 
toward  you  hereafter,  this  will  represent  me. 
Our  life  together  was  a  sickening  failure,  but 
I  have  been  no  more  to  blame  than  you  have 
been.  I  acknowledge  before  all  men,  as  I 
shall  acknowledge  before  my  Creator,  that  my 
conduct  toward  you  was  often  wrong,  and 


AN  ANTE-MORTEM   STATEMENT.  353 

often  monstrous  in  its  wicked  stubbornness, 
but  I  declare  now  as  my  last  declaration  that 
I  could  not  help  it ;  your  half  of  the  blame 
was  conducted  in  a  manner  so  distasteful  to 
me  that  I  could  not  help  acting  as  I  did. 
When  I  asked  for  bread,  you  gave  me  worse 
than  a  stone,  —  a  blow,  and  so  cunningly  di 
rected  that  it  reached  my  tenderest  part.  In 
the  management  of  your  half  of  the  blame 
you  caused  me  to  dread  your  presence  so 
much  that  my  dread  of  death  is  not  equal 
to  it.  Much  as  I  have  reason  to  tremble 
when  I  think  of  it,  I  shall  enter  the  presence 
of  my  final  Judge  with  less  dread  than  I  could 
enter  a  room  in  which  you  were,  although  I 
have  lived  and  will  die  by  the  belief  that 
you  have  no  more  to  complain  of  than  I 
have. 

"I  have  rooted  out  all  the  hatred  there  is 
in  my  heart  except  that  my  last  thought  will 
be  that,  while  you  were  as  much  to  blame  as 
I  was,  you  demanded  credit  when  you  should 
have  asked  forgiveness  of  God.  I  am  dying, 


354  A    MAN   STORY. 

but  in  acknowledging  my  own  faults  I  cannot 
forget  yours,  which  have  caused  me  so  much 
trouble.  I  ask  forgiveness  of  God  and  man 
for  my  many  faults,  but  at  your  death  you 
will  call  upon  God  and  man  to  witness  the 
death  of  a  perfect  woman.  I  forgive  you  for 
everything  else;  you  will  die  as  you  have  lived, 
believing  that  you  were  perfect,  and  that  I  am 
possessed  of  the  faults  that  will  be  charged 
against  us  both." 

He  also  told  me  about  his  business:  how  it 
could  be  best  closed  up,  and  the  proceeds 
given  to  Mrs.  Tom.  He  had  intended  to  write 
to  Mrs.  Tom,  too,  he  said,  but  he  did  not 
have  the  strength.  I  might  carry  his  message 
to  her ;  he  loved  her,  though  he  did  not  know 
why.  She  had  failed  him  at  a  time  when  he 
only  asked  the  confidence  he  honestly  deserved, 
but  he  loved  her  in  spite  of  it;  he  had  tried 
to  forget  her  as  hard  as  he  had  tried  to  sleep 
during  his  illness,  but  he  could  not  do  either, 
and  was  in  a  wretched  situation.  He  had 
brought  sorrow  into  three  lives :  Mrs.  Barnaby's, 


AN  ANTE- MORTEM   STATEMENT.  355 

Mrs.  Tom's,  and"  his   own,   and  was    paying  the 
penalty. 

I  think  he  made  up  his  mind  that  night 
that  he  was  fatally  ill,  and  although  I  was  so 
certain  that  he  would  not  live  through  the 
night  that  I  sent  for  Hickey,  to  watch  with 
me,  he  was  better  again  toward  morning,  as 
though  it  had  been  determined  by  the  Fates 
that  he  should  pay  more  dearly  for  the  wrongs 
he  had  inflicted  upon  others. 


356  A   MAN  STORY. 


CHAPTER    XXVII. 

THE    BBEAK    OF    DAY. 

UNCLE  TOM  had  been  sick  two  weeks,  and 
steadily  growing  worse,  before  I  made  up  my 
mind  to  send  for  Mrs.  Tom;  I  felt  that 
something  must  be  done,  and  I  could  think 
of  nothing  else.  During  all  of  his  sickness 
he  had  constantly  complained  of  his  need  of 
rest,  and  for  three  days  had  been  delirious. 
I  remembered  how  often  he  had  said  that  Mrs. 
Tom  rested  him  when  he  was  tired;  he  had 
said  that  she  changed  the  air ,  in  Fog  Lake 
when  she  visited  it,  and  I  hoped  it  was  for 
the  best ;  I  could  think  of  nothing  else. 

During  his  delirium  he  was  constantly  de 
manding  that  some  one  of  whom  he  was  afraid 
be  kept  out  of  his  room ;  an  unusual  noise 
below  would  cause  him  to  sit  up  in  bed,  and 


THE  BREAK  OF  DAY.  357 

ask  that  the  door  be  locked;  and  while  I 
thought  he  referred  to  Mrs.  Barnaby,  it  some 
times  occurred  to  me  that  he  wanted  them  both 
to  keep  away ;  that  he  had  made  up  his  mind 
to  die  by  his  stubbornness,  and  get  rid  of  the 
weary  task  of  living.  Therefore  I  was  not 
sure  that  what  I  had  done  was  right,  and 
during  the  night  when  I  believed  Mrs.  Tom 
was  travelling  toward  us,  and  when  Uncle  Tom 
seemed  much  worse,  I  watched  the  pathway  of 
stars,  and  it  seemed  to  me  that  there  was  a 
friendly  glow  all  the  way  from  Fog  Lake  to  a 
place  directly  over  the  window  where  I  stood, 
as  though  the  stars  were  glad  Mrs.  Tom  was 
coming,  and  were  lighting  her  on  the  way. 

Providing  she  was  a  passenger  on  the  train 
I  expected,  Mrs.  Tom  would  arrive  a  little 
before  three  o'clock  in  the  morning,  and  at 
times  I  feared  Uncle  Tom  would  never  live  to 
see  her.  His  breathing  was  quick,  and  the 
old  restlessness  had  become  painful  to  see. 
In  tossing  about  he  muttered  of  everything 
that  had  ever  concerned  him,  and  when  I 


358  A   MAN  STORY. 

went  to  him  his  wasted  appearance  fright 
ened  me.  He  was  constantly  demanding  that 
the  door  be  locked;  I  thought  of  the  door 
to  his  heart,  which  he  had  locked  with  bolts 
and  bars,  and  I  wondered  whether  it  could 
ever  be  opened  again.  I  had  sent  for  the  one 
person  in  the  world  who  held  the  key,  and 
hoped  she  could  open  the  door  so  easily  that 
Uncle  Tom  would  be  benefited  by  the  change. 

Frequently  he  mentioned  the  failure  his  life 
had  been,  and  laughed  in  delirious  glee,  as 
though  his  object  had  been  to  '  make  it  a 
failure.  He  mentioned  that  he  had  no  friends, 
and  that  amused  him;  and  altogether  his  talk 
was  so  wild  that  I  partook  of  his  nervous 
ness,  and  walked  up  and  down  the  room  in 
strange  excitement.  It  seemed  a  premonition 
to  me  that  I  would  receive  a  letter  from  Mrs. 
Tom  saying  she  would  not  come,  and  in  that 
event  I  could  expect  nothing  but  the  worst ; 
the  awful  time  when  Uncle  Tom  would  rest. 

The  town  was  situated  on  a  prairie  river, 
and  the  railroad  followed  its  valley.  Ten 


THE  BREAK  OF  DAY.  359 

minutes  before  the  train  was  due,  I  could 
see  its  approaching  light,  and  I  thought 
with  pleasure  that  it  seemed  in  a  tremendous 
hurry;  that  the  engine  was  running  at  a  great 
speed,  and  that  it  partook  of  my  own  im 
patience  ;  this  made  me  hope  that  Mrs.  Tom 
was  a  passenger  on  the  train,  and  that  her 
coming  would  relieve  me  of  worry  and  fear. 

Occasionally  the  light  disappeared  behind  a 
hill,  and  when  I  saw  it  again,  its  haste  seemed 
to  be  increased,  as  though  it  had  lost  the  road, 
and  was  hurrying  to  ma'ke  up  for  lost  time. 
There  was  a  long  stretch  of  straight  road  near 
the  town,  and  when  the  light  appeared  upon 
this,  the  rapid  manner  in  which  it  approached 
made  me  feel  like  cheering;  the  light  had 
caught  sight  of  the  town  in  which  Uncle  Tom 
lived ;  perhaps  it  could  see  the  very  house  in 
which  he  lay  dying,  and  it  seemed  to  be  racing 
with  death  to  get  there  first. 

When  the  train  passed,  on  its  way  to  the 
station  at  the  upper  end  of  the  town,  I  thought 
I  had  never  seen  it  run  so  rapidly,  and  I  was 


A   MAN  STORY. 

sure  then  that  Mrs.  Tom  was  a  passenger; 
the  gentle  Mrs.  Tom  had  not  lost  a  moment, 
for  she  must  have  taken  the  train  within  an 
hour  after  receiving  the  message;  like  the  good 
angel  that  she  was,  she  had  lost  no  time. 

Old  Archie  was  at  the  station  with  his 
lantern  to  meet  her,  and  soon  I  heard  them 
hurrying  along,  and  I  could  detect  a  woman's 
voice  making  anxious  inquiries;  I  think  I 
never  fully  appreciated  her  goodness  until  I 
realized  how  promptly  she  had  answered  my 
summons,  in  spite  of  the  neglect  to  which  she 
had  been  subjected ;  but  the  magic  music  of  her 
voice  was  on  the  street,  and  would  soon  be  in 
the  room.  In  thinking  of  what  effect  it  would 
have,  I  turned  toward  the  bed,  and  found  that 
the  sufferer  was  quiet,  as  though  he  already  felt 
the  effect  of  Mrs.  Tom's  presence  in  the  town. 

When  she  came  into  the  room,  after  a  short 
pause  downstairs  to  collect  herself,  she  was 
very  calm,  I  thought,  and  walked  directly 
over  to  the  bed,  and  it  so  happened  that 
Uncle  Tom  turned  his  back  to  her,  but  he 


THE  BREAK  OF  DAY.  361 

was  delirious,  and  did  not  know  what  he  was 
doing;  I  am  sure  of  that,  but  for  a  moment 
Mrs.  Tom  did  not  understand,  and  seemed 
greatly  hurt.  She  cried  a  little  as  she  stood 
smoothing  his  forehead,  but  soon  passed  into 
another  room  to  remove  her  wraps. 

She  had  not  spoken  to  me,  but  I  did  not 
care  for  that,  I  was  so  anxious  for  her  com 
ing  to  prove  a  blessing. 

Almost  instantly  Uncle  Tom  came  to  him 
self,  and  looked  at  me  with  a  vacant  stare, 
which  soon  became  intelligent. 

"  Chance,"  he  said,  "  you  don't  know  how 
much  better  I  feel.  Has  anything  happened?" 

His  wife  was  standing  within  a  few  feet  of 
him,  listening,  but  I  dared  not  confess  yet,  so 
I  answered,  "  No ;  nothing  has  happened." 

"If  I  did  not  know  differently  I  should  say 
that  Mrs.  Tom  was  in  the  house.  There  is  an 
air  around  here  that  I  used  to  notice  when  I 
visited  at  your  house  in  Fog  Lake.  That  must 
have  been  mighty  good  medicine  the  doctor  left 
last  to  have  that  eifect.  I  believe  I'm  better." 


362  A   MAN  STORF. 

He  talked  a  little  while  in  this  strain,  and 
then  went  to  sleep  again,  when  Mrs.  Toni 
softly  returned  to  his  side.  She  seemed  to 
remember  how  well  he  used  to  rest  with  his 
head  in  her  lap,  and  raised  his  head  and  his 
pillow  until  she  held  him  in  the  old  position, 
which  Uncle  Tom  always  regarded  as  the 
height  of  luxury.  He  seemed  to  relish  the 
change,  even  in  his  sleep,  and  looked  as  con 
tented  as  he  ever  did  at  home,  except  that 
his  lips  were  parched  and  feverish. 

Mrs.  Tom  occasionally  moistened  his  lips  and 
softly  stroked  his  hair  and  forehead,  and  this 
seemed  so  grateful  to  him  that  he  slept 
soundly ;  it  was  a  refreshing  sleep,  this  time, 
I  was  sure.  I  believed  that  when  he  came 
out  of  his  peaceful,  quiet  sleep,  he  would  be 
on  the  road  to  recovery,  and  this  was  so  con 
soling  that  I  dozed  off  myself,  but  when  I 
awoke  Mrs.  Tom  was  still  softly  stroking  his 
hair,  and  when  she  thought  I  was  asleep  I 
saw  her  raise  his  pale  hand  to  her  lips ;  I 
did  not  doubt  now  that  he  would  be  glad 


THE  BREAK  OF  DAT.  363 

I  had  sent  for  his  wife ;  the  influence  she  had 
exerted  over  him  already  convinced  me  of  this, 
and  I  regretted  I  had  not  sent  sooner. 

I  went  to  sleep  again  in  my  chair,  and  was 
aroused,  I  don't  know  how  long  afterwards, 
by  a  motion  on  the  part  of  Uncle  Tom.  I  was 
so  close  to  the  bed  that  I  could  touch  him, 
and  I  saw  that  when  he  opened  his  eyes  he 
looked  squarely  into  his  wife's  face,  and  that 
he  did  not  take  his  eyes  from  hers. 

"  Is  it  you,  Mrs.  Tom  ? "  he  asked,  with  a 
slight  tremor  and  huskiness  in  his  voice. 

"  Yes,  dear  Tom,"  she  replied,  in  her  sweet 
voice,  which  thrilled  me ;  I  don't  know  how 
it  affected  him. 

He  looked  at  the  footboard  of  the  bed  for 
a  while,  and  then  clasped  his  hands  back  of  his 
head,  as  I  had  seen  him  do  so  often  at  home 
when  he  was  thoroughly  comfortable ;  while 
he  was  thinking,  I  noticed  that  his  lips  trem 
bled,  which  caused  him  to  say :  — 

"I  wish  you  would  lay  your  handkerchief 
over  my  face  for  a  moment." 


364  A   MAN  STORY. 


CHAPTER    XXVIII. 

HOW   IT   CAME   ABOUT. 

MRS.  TOM  did  as  he  requested,  and  I  think 
we  both  joined  him  in  his  weakness,  for  I  re 
member  finding  my  handkerchief  with  difficulty, 
and  that  I  wiped  tears  from  Mrs.  Tom's  face. 

Uncle  Tom  removed  the  handkerchief  him 
self  presently  and  again  looked  at  his  wife. 

"Have  you  been  divorced  from  me?"  he 
asked,  in  such  a  weak  and  troubled  voice 
that  I  could  not  easily  connect  it  with  the 
strong  man  I  had  known  in  Fog  Lake.  It 
caused  me  to  realize  how  very  ill  he  had  been, 
for  the  frenzy  of  despair  had  left  him  now, 
and  he  was  very  weak. 

"  No,  Tom ;  I  love  you  more  now  than  I 
ever  did,  and  have  been  thinking  every  hour 
of  coming  to  you.  I  will  kiss  you  if  you 
want  me  to." 


HOW  IT  CAME  ABOUT.  365 

"  Well,  I  want  you  to,  if  Chance  don't 
mind  it  in  his  presence." 

I  didn't  care  for  that,  but  I  felt  that  I 
wanted  to  go  out  of  the  room  for  a  while, 
and  when  I  returned  I  did  not  believe  they 
had  moved  or  spoken.  Uncle  Tom  had  been 
looking  at  the  footboard  of  the  bed  through 
a  mist,  I  think,  but  he  must  have  felt  better, 
for  Mrs.  Tom's  hand  was  on  his  forehead,  and 
he  was  always  talking  of  the  magic  of  her 
touch. 

"Your  coming  back  to  me,"  he  said  to  his 
wife,  when  I  came  in,  as  though  he  had  been 
waiting  for  me  to  hear  him  say  it,  "  has  saved 
my  life,  I  think,  and  it  is  the  greatest  event 
in  my  life,  except  meeting  you  in  the  first 
place  :  but  I  don't  believe  I  should  have  asked 
you,  though  I  have  felt  all  the  time  that  I 
should  die  if  you  didn't  come.  I  never  intend 
to  be  stubborn  again ;  it  hurts  me  more  than 
anything  I  ever  tried.  I  am  a  very  stubborn 
man,  and  intended  when  I  sent  you  away  to 
forget  you,  or  live  a  life  of  misery,  and  while 


366  A  MAN  STORY. 

I  couldn't  forget  you,  I  succeeded  in  the  other ; 
no  one  can  ever  know  how  well  I  did  that. 
I  know  now  how  men  go  mad ;  I  have  been 
so  near  it  that  I  am  frightened.  A  man's 
stubbornness  becomes  madness,  and  he  does  not 
know  it,  and  finally  he  destroys  himself,  be 
lieving  that  he  is  in  his  right  mind." 

Uncle  Tom  was  quite  exhausted  by  this 
time,  and  while  he  was  resting  he  looked 
slyly  at  his  wife,  and  then  turned  his  eyes 
quickly,  as  though  to  look  at  her  humiliated 
him. 

"  You  did  everything  you  could  do,"  he  said, 
after  a  while,  "but  somehow  in  my  frenzy  I 
imagined  I  was  dying,  and  that  when  I  was 
painfully  gasping  for  breath  you  thought  I 
was  doing  it  simply  to  distress  you.  A  man 
should  submit  to  anything  rather  than  submit 
to  the  horrors  of  stubbornness.  I  was  in  the 
wrong,  but  I  believe  I  suffered  as  much  as 
you  did,  who  were  in  the  right.  Do  you  think 
any  less  of  me  because  of  my  stubbornness  ? " 

"No,  Tom;    you   are   too   weak  to    talk,  or  I 


HOW  IT  CAME  ABOUT.  367 

should  tell  you  how  much  more  I  think  of 
you  than  I  ever  did.  Can't  you  go  to  sleep 
again?" 

"  No ;  you'll  have  to  excuse  me  for  refus 
ing  to  sleep  when  you  talk  that  way  to  me. 
Your  voice  is  as  pleasant  as  ever;  how  I 
have  longed  to  hear  it !  I  was  mistaken 
about  the  possibility  of  ever  tiring  of  you, 
but  I  wonder  you  have  not  tired  of  me. 
You  used  to  say  that  I  was  good  to  you, 
and  I  enjoyed  your  saying  it  as  much  as 
though  I  really  was,  but  I  can  honestly  say 
that  you  have  been  wonderfully  patient  with 
me ;  had  you  not  been,  we  should  have  ended 
our  lives  in  the  greatest  wretchedness." 

I  left  them  soon  after,  and  went  to  bed, 
and  had  lost  .so  much  sleep  of  late  that  I 
did  not  see  them  again  until  the  afternoon, 
when  I  found  Uncle  Tom  propped  up  in  bed 
trying  a  bowl  of  broth  which  Mrs.  Tom  had 
just  brought  up,  though  he  was  yet  so  weak 
that  he  made  poor  progress  with  it.  Uncle 
Tom's  pale  face  was  radiant  with  happiness, 


368  A   MAN  STORY. 

and,  as  he  shook  hands  with  me,  when  I 
came  in,  I  imagined  that  he  had  learned  that 
I  had  had  something  to  do  with  it. 

Mrs.  Tom  was  afraid  he  would  over-exert 
himself,  but  her  husband  said  no;  now  that 
she  had  come  back,  he  could  get  up  and 
dress,  and  walk  down  town  if  he  wanted  to, 
and  fight  the  blacksmith. 

Mrs.  Tom  hovered  about  him  night  and 
day,  and  I  wondered  when  she  rested  herself; 
but  in  spite  of  it  she  was  as  happy  as  she 
could  be,  for  Uncle  Tom  had  been  restored 
to  her. 

I  returned  to  my  neglected  work  soon  after 
her  arrival,  and  was  quite  busy;  but  whenever 
I  went  into  their  room  I  found  them  as 
happy  as  they  had  ever  been,  and  Uncle  Tom 
talked  no  more  of  the  time  when  he  would 
tire  of  his  wife. 

One  day,  while  he  was  still  in  bed,  but 
recovering  his  strength  as  rapidly  as  possible, 
I  came  across  a  wagon  going  toward  our 
house  in  which  was  loaded  Mrs.  Tom's  trunk 


HOW  IT  CAME  ABOUT.  369 

and  effects.  The  different  articles  seemed  like 
a  load  of  old  friends  from  Fog  Lake,  and  I 
followed  reverently  behind ;  I  thought  it  the 
greatest  procession  in  my  life,  for  I  knew 
that  Mrs.  Tom  had  come  to  stay,  and  that 
our  troubles  were  over;  I  knew  that  Uncle 
Tom  had  sent  for  the  trunk  and  the  other 
modest  effects,  and  that  everything  he  had 
lost  had  been  restored  to  him. 

Occasionally,  when  I  was  alone  with  him, 
and  Mrs.  Tom  was  out  of  the  room  for  a 
moment,  a  strange  look  came  into  Uncle 
Tom's  eyes,  and  I  thought  he  was  thinking 
of  his  humiliation  in  the  presence  of  Mrs. 
Barnaby.  Once  Mrs.  Tom  came  into  the 
room  while  I  was  there,  and  the  strangeness 
of  his  look  frightened  her,  for  she  ran  to 
him,  and  said  he  must  be  thinking  ill  of  her. 
But  he  soon  laughed,  and  nodded  and  shook 
his  head,  to  declare  that  he  would  always 
love  her,  and  that  he  would  never  forget 
her;  but  after  that  I  somehow  believed  that 
he  occasionally  thought  of  the  darkest  night 


370  A  MAN  STORY. 

of  his    life,   in   spite    of  the    bright  light  then 
shining  into   it. 

When  he  lived  with  Mrs.  Tom  at  Fog 
Lake,  no  recollection  of  Mrs.  Barnaby  ever 
made  him  thoughtful,  he  was  so  content  with 
his  new  home ;  and  though  I  feared  for  a  while 
that  this  thinking  might  grow  upon  him,  it 
never  did,  except  that  he  once  fished  Mar 
garet  out  of  the  dusty  place  to  which  she  had 
retreated,  and  said  that  his  indifference  to  her 
neglect  was  because  he  had  never  been  able 
to  love  her. 


A    RIVAL.  371 


CHAPTER     XXIX. 

A    KIVAL. 

THE  invalid's  improvement  was  marvellously 
rapid ;  when  I  went  into  his  room  during  the 
days  immediately  following  Mrs.  Tom's  arrival, 
I  usually  found  him  fast  asleep,  or  having 
a  merry  time  with  his  wife,  for  she  was 
always  with  him.  In  a  week  he  sat  up,  and 
walked  about  the  house  a  little,  and  soon 
after  ventured  to  look  in  at  the  store,  Mrs. 
Tom  accompanying  him.  Great  numbers  of 
the  people  congratulated  him  on  his  return  to 
health,  and  he  introduced  them  to  his  wife, 
with  every  evidence  of  pride  and  pleasure. 

In  a  month  he  was  looking  better  than  he 
ever  did,  and  professed  to  be  the  happiest 
man  alive.  In  two  months  fine-looking  peo 
ple  began  arriving  from  the  city  to  see  him ; 
gentlemen  who  had  been  his  business  associates, 


372  A   MAN  STORY. 

accompanied  by  their  wives  in  most  cases,  and 
the  excursions  they  made,  headed  by  Uncle  Tom 
and  his  wife,  were  the  wonder  of  the  town. 

The  town  seemed  to  share  in  Uncle  Tom's 
good  fortune,  for  it  prospered,  and  it  was 
not  long  before  Uncle  Tom  sold  his  store 
and  opened  a  bank,  in  which  I  think  some 
of  his  friends  from  the  City  were  interested. 
In  the  course  of  time  my  name  appeared  on 
the  printed  stationery  as  one  of  the  officers; 
when  my  mother  came  to  see  us,  she  said  she 
always  knew  I  would  become  a  banker,  but  she 
never  knew  how  skilfully  and  patiently  Uncle 
Tom  taught  me  the  little  I  knew,  or  how  his 
friendly  interest  encouraged  me  to  do  my  best. 

There  was  great  excitement  at  our  house 
one  day,  and,  after  an  absence  of  several 
hours,  Uncle  Tom  came  into-  the  room  where 
I  was  at  work,  and  said  he  had  a  Rival ;  a 
roaring  boy,  who  looked  like  his  father,  it 
turned  out  to  be,  and  although  he  was  named 
Rival,  he  did  not  deserve  it,  for  a  few 
months  later,  during  one  of  Mrs.  Tom's  visits 


A    RIVAL.  373 

to  her  husband  ID  his  office,  I  heard  him  say 
that  really  Rival  ought  to  have  more  attention  ; 
although  Uncle  Tom  appreciated  the  manner  in 
which  his  wife  was  always  "  tagging "  after 
him,  he  feared  that  Rival  was  being  neglected, 
and  that  the  neighbors  would  talk  about  it. 
And  Mrs.  Tom  would  say  that  while  she  loved 
this  precious  baby,  she  loved  Uncle  Tom  a 
thousand  times  more,  and  then  they  would 
both  forget  Rival  in  thinking  of  each  other. 

But  Rival  was  not  neglected.  He  was 
immensely  popular  with  old  Archie  and  with 
me,  and  when  Number  Two  arrived,  and  ar 
ranged  his  canteens  and  knapsacks  in  the 
room  we  had  assigned  him,  Rival  had  all  the 
attention  he  needed.  Before  he  was  two 
years  old  the  boy  loved  to  spend  his  time 
in  the  room  where  the  muskets,  and  swords, 
and  brass  buttons  were  kept;  where  he  drank 
from  a  canteen,  and  where  all  the  things  he 
admired  were  packed  away  in  knapsacks. 
Later  in  life  he  was  gone  for  half  days  at  a 
time  with  Number  Two,  sleeping  peacefully 


374  A   MAN   STORY. 

on  a  blue  coat  while  Lis  venerable  friend 
watched  his  bob  and  bait  in  the  river.  Such 
an  attachment  sprang  up  between  them,  in 
deed,  that  the  father  and  mother  were  at 
times  a  little  piqued  because  of  his  careless 
ness  toward  them,  but  they  cheerfully  said 
that  they  had  begun  it,  and  forgave  him. 

There  were  many  old  soldiers  in  that  part 
of  the  country,  and  although  Number  Two  fre 
quently  put  on  his  blue  uniform,  and  went  away 
to  reunions,  there  were  no  Copperheads  present 
to  annoy  him,  and  he  came  back  in  the  best 
condition.  But  we  all  imagined  that  if  Number 
One  should  come  to  see  us,  The  Bends  would 
break  out  again,  so  Number  One  never  came. 

From  the  Boomer,  who  visited  Hooper,  and 
looked  admiringly  at  the  boom,  and  the  neigh 
boring  prairie  that  might  be  converted  into  addi 
tions,  we  learned  that  Number  One  was  still 
looking  highly  respectable,  and  that  he  read  a 
great  many  books,  but  the  Boomer  believed  that 
he  often  regretted  his  determination  to  never 
again  speak  the  name  of  Thos.  Saulsbury. 


TWO  LETTERS.  375 


CHAPTER     XXX. 

TWO    LETTERS. 

DURING  Uncle  Tom's  illness  there  came  to 
his  address  a  letter  from  Mrs.  Barnaby,  but 
as  it  was  marked  personal,  he  did  not  see 
it  until  after  he  was  able  to  read  it  to  Mrs. 
Tom  and  me.  I  take  the  liberty  of  intro 
ducing  it,  in  taking  farewell  of  the  reader,  to 
gether  with  the  reply  :  — 

44 1  hear  that  you  are  ill,  and  write  this  in 
the  hope  that  you  will  not  die  hating  me  as 
you  do ;  I  fear  that  you  will  not  recover  from 
your  hatred  in  the  passage  through  the  grave, 
and  that  you  will  be  restless  in  heaven  because 
I  hope  to  go  there. 

"  I  acknowledge  now  what  I  have  never 
been  able  to  acknowledge  before,  that  in  our 
joint  affairs  I  was  often  wrong.  Now  that  I 
know  my  own  capacity  for  love,  I  realize 


376  A   MAN  STORY. 

that  much  of  the  wrong  I  did  you  was 
because  of  the  lack  of  it  ;  I  realize  that  much 
of  the  wrong  you  did  me  was  due  to  the 
lack  of  a  love  that  was  necessary  to  your 
life.  When  I  found  that  you  possessed  what 
I  lacked,  in  the  love  of  Mrs.  Tom,  I  did 
what  I  would  not  do  again  :  I  used  the  power 
I  possessed  to  drive  you  from  it.  I  acknowl 
edge  my  fault,  and  am  sincere.  In  my 
dreariness  and  loneliness  I  did  many  things  I 
should  not  have  done  ;  I  say  from  my  heart 
that  I  believe  that  your  dreariness  and  loneliness 
are  responsible  for  much  that  you  did  that  we 
are  both  ashamed  of. 

"I  am  now  the  wife  of  Mr.  Barnaby,  who 
was  so  long  your  confidential  clerk ;  I  hope 
you  will  be  glad  to  know  that  I  am  content, 
and  that  he  has  found  that  in  me  which  I 
always  thought  was  admirable,  but  which  you 
incensed  me  by  denying,  by  your  conduct, 
existed  at  all.  I  know  now  what  hard  blows 
I  gave  you  ;  I  did  not  know  when  they  were 
given.  I  realize  now,  as  I  never  realized 


TWO  LETTERS.  377 

before,  that  my  womanly  dignity  and  pride 
would  not  supply  the  vacant  place  in  your 
heart. 

"  Mr.  Barnaby  has  known  you  nearly  all 
your  business  life  ;  I  hope  it  will  please  you 
to  know  that  he  speaks  of  you  only  in  praise. 
He  believes  you  to  be  a  fair  and  honorable 
man ;  and  I  think  so,  too.  I  once  believed 
differently,  but  I  think  so  now.  My  relations 
with  him  began  while  he  was  your  trusted 
agent ;  he  respected  me  then,  and  wondered 
why  you  dreaded  me  so  much,  but  at  that 
time,  as  now,  he  deserved  the  confidence  you 
reposed  in  him.  Since  he  has  become  my 
husband  I  have  joined  him  in  saying  that 
you  were  no  more  to  blame  than  I  was.  I 
could  not  say  more  ;  I  sincerely  hope  you 
will  accept  it  in  the  spirit  which  prompts  it: 
a  spirit  of  regret  that  we  were  mutually  so 
unhappy  ;  a  spirit  of  forgiveness,  as  I  hope 
to  be  forgiven. 

"  I  am  sorry  that  while  I  am  contented,  for 
the  first  time  in  my  life,  you  are  more  wretched 


378  A   MAN  STORY. 

than  you  ever  were  before ;  I  hope  your  ex 
perience  in  the  past  will  teach  you  that  you 
should  not  be  as  stubborn  with  Mrs.  Tom  as 
you  were  with  me.  Stubbornness  is  your  great 
est  sin ;  you  should  overcome  it  as  I  over 
came  my  pride,  and  humbled  myself  by 
confessing  what  I  once  thought  would  never 
pass  my  lips.  I  believe  in  Mrs.  Tom  because 
you  love  her;  she  is  the  woman  I  was  not, 
and  could  not  be.  You  were  always  consist 
ent  in  your  dread  of  me ;  you  have  been 
consistent  in  everything,  except  in  your  stub 
bornness  with  her." 

Uncle  Tom's  reply  was  written  in  the  same 
strange  way,  without  address  or  signature,  on 
the  day  that  he  received  Mrs.  Barnaby's  letter : 

"  I  forgive  everything ;  I  forget  everything, 
except  that  we  have  wasted  so  many  years. 
This  I  can  never  forget,  though  I  shall  never 
think  of  it  unkindly,  but  with  regret ;  it  will 
often  occur  to  me,  in  spite  of  myself,  that  I 
might  have  been  a  better  man  now  had  I  been 
wiser  in  my  youth.  An  unhappy  fate  has 


TWO   LETTERS.  379 

willed  that  the  son  never  heeds  the  lessons  of 
the  father ;  the  wisdom  of  the  father  is  dis 
missed  by  the  untried  son  as  the  croaking  of 
an  old  man  in  his  dotage,  and  so  it  comes 
about  that  we  all  fall  into  the  same  pitfalls, 
and  learn  by  bitter  experience  that  which  has 
been  learned  so  often  before.  I  shall  only 
think  of  our  past  with  the  same  sorrow  that 
possesses  me  when  I  remember  that  I  did  not 
heed  the  teachings  of  my  elders  when  a  boy. 
"  That  you  were  a  good  woman  I  never 
doubted,  as  I  never  doubted  that  I  was  an 
honest  man,  though  wronging  you  every  day. 
There  is  no  right;  the  best  we  can  do  is  the 
only  right,  and  we  did  the  best  we  could 
while  wronging  each  other.  We  were  both 
right,  for  we  did  the  best  we  could,  yet  we 
were  both  wrong.  We  knew  years  ago  that 
we  could  not  live  together;  in  this  we  were 
right,  but  we  kept  up  the  struggle,  and  in 
this  we  were  wrong.  Marry  the  bull  to  a 
scarlet  flag,  and  the  gods  would  watch  the  con 
flict  with  pity. 


380  A    MAN  STORY. 

"  Of  my  old  stubbornness  I  have  none  left, 
for  Mrs.  Tom  is  with  me.  She  is  beside  me 
as  I  write  this,  and  in  her  presence  I  can 
only  think  of  the  old  hate  to  regret  it.  Honor 
seems  more  precious  to  me  now  than  it  ever 
did  before,  though  I  have  always  tried  to  de 
serve  the  respect  of  men;  but  since  you  have 
agreed  to  blot  out  the  past,  receive  my  assur 
ance  that  I  shall  be  very  careful  of  the  future. 
For  every  sorrow  I  have  caused  I  shall 
endeavor  to  provide  a  double  measure  of  joy ; 
for  every  wrong  in  my  past  I  shall  endeavor 
to  supply  a  double  measure  of  good  in  the 
future,  to  the  end  that  I  may  hear  hereafter, 
as  I  have  heard  this  day,  that  there  is  for 
giveness,  and  peace,  and  good  will." 


THE    END. 


THE  WOKKS   OP  E.   W.   HOWE. 

THE  STORY  OF  A  COUNTRY  TOWN. 

1vol.,  12mo.    $1.50. 

The  Springfield  Republican  finds  in  it  "  a  distinct  flavor  of  its  own 
.  .  .  the  freshness  and  strangeness  of  the  prairie  life." 

The  Chicago  Inter-Ocean  finds  it  "the  most  dramatic  of  our  Ameri 
can  novels  ...  a  drama  of  direct  appeal." 

"  There  runs  through  the  story  a  vein  of  pathos  that  is  absolutely 
pitiful,  and  makes  one  think  of  '  The  Mill  on  the  Floss.'  .  .  .  It  is 
a  strong,  stern,  matter-of-fact  book.  Some  of  its  pages  stand  out  from 
their  sad  background  of  reality  like  one  of  Salvator  Rosa's  pictures. 
.  .  .  Many  of  the  situations  are  as  dramatical  as  any  of  Bret  Harte's." 
—  St.  Joseph  Gazette. 

The  /Saturday  fieview  pronounces  "  The  Story  of  a  Country  Town  " 
the  most  remarkable  of  recent  American  novels,  and  commends  its 
sincerity,  frankness,  and  intense  realism. 

"  A  fiction  which  is  of  the  kind  most  characteristic  of  our  time,  and 
which  no  student  of  our  time  hereafter  can  safely  ignore.  The  book  is 
full  of  simple  homeliness,  but  is  never  vulgar.  It  does  not  flatter  the 
West,  nor  paint  its  rough  and  rude  traits  as  heroic ;  it  perceives  and 
states,  and  the  results  are  perfectly  imaginable  American  conditions,  in 
which  no  trait  of  beauty  or  pathos  is  lost.  There  are  charming  things 
in  it.  Youth,  with  its  ignorance,  its  ardor,  its  hopefulness,  and  fear 
lessness,  is  more  than  once  finely  studied ;  and  amidst  the  prevailing 
harshness  and  aridity  there  are  episodes  of  tenderness  and  self-devotion 
that  are  like  springs  of  water  out  of  the  ground." — W.  D.  Ho  WELLS* 
t;i  The  Century  Magazine. 

"  I  like  your  book  so  much  that  I  am  glad  of  the  chance  to  say  so. 
Your  style  is  so  simple,  sincere,  direct,  and  at  the  same  time  so  clear 
and  so  strong,  that  I  think  it  must  have  been  born  to  you,  not  made. 
Your  pictures  of  the  arid  village  life,  and  the  insides  and  outsicles  of  its 
people,  are  vivid,  and,  what  is  more,  true ;  I  know,  for  I  have  seen  it 
all,  and  lived  it  all." — MARK  TWAIN. 

"  It  is  decidedly  one  of  the  most  notable  works  of  fiction  from  the 
pen  of  an  American  writer.  The  tone  of  the  story  is  sombre  and  sad, 
almost  weird  in  its  most  tragic  phases,  and  yet  through  it  all  appear 
those  exquisite  touches  of  humor  and  pathos,  and  unique  conceits  which 
constitute  the  charm  of  Dickens." —  Baltimore  Herald. 

TICKNOR  &  CO.,  BOSTON. 


THE  WOKKS   OF   E.   W.   HOWE. 


THE  MYSTERY  OF  THE  LOCKS. 

"  The  writer's  touches  are  of  the  broadest,  most  definite  nature  in 
all  such  pages.  He  is  an  etcher  more  than  a  painter  in  his  management 
of  the  telling  lines,  the  lights  and  thick  shadows."  —  Independent. 

"  An  old,  failing  town,  by  a  sluggish  Western  river ;  a  gloomy,  un 
canny  mansion,  on  lonely  hill-top,  with  a  tradition  of  ghostly  footsteps 
coming  and  going  over  its  stairs  and  corridors ;  a  handsome,  cultivated 
stranger,  who  hides  his  identity  under  an  assumed  name,  and  lives 
alone  in  the  gloomy  house ;  a  girl,  a  dainty  specimen  of  sporadic  beauty 
and  genius ;  a  villain  as  ugly  and  captivating  as  ever  appeared  in  the 
pages  of  fiction  ;  an  almost  equally  fascinating  ne'er-do-well ;  a  lurking 
shadow  of  danger  threatening  the  happiness  and  life  of  the  stranger ;  a 
coterie  of  quaint  gossips  ;  an  '  ancient  maiden,'  delightful  in  her  sharp- 
spoken  antiquity ;  a  dreary  background  of  decayed  stores  and  ware 
houses,  of  mist  and  rain  and  mud,  of  sluggish  waters  roused  to  a  fury 
of  destruction ;  and  a  climax  of  grotesque,  high- wrought  tragedy,  — 
these  are  the  elements  going  to  make  up  the  strong,  vivid,  strikingly 
original,  uncouth,  impossibly-possible  novel,  '  The  Mystery  of  the 
Locks.'  In  its  emphatic  realism,  it  is  a  production  of  remarkable  merit. 
The  author's  power  of  insight  never  fails,  and  in  expressing  what  he 
sees  and  feels  he  is  never  vague  or  uncertain.  One  cannot  help  think 
ing  that,  with  this  book  and  its  predecessor  from  the  same  pen,  a  new 
and  promising  force  has  come  into  American  literature."  —  Literary 
World. 

"  There  are  the  elements  of  greatness  and  a  firm  courage  that  breathes 
success  upon  almost  every  page  of  this  extraordinary  volume,  and  he 
who  finds  his  own  life  difficult  will  take  courage  from  this  work  and  look 
at  the  future  bravely  and  with  more  hope  and  cheer."  —  The  Delineator. 

"Moreover,  there  are  veiy  many  elements  in  his  writing  that  he 
seems  to  owe  to  no  one,  — to  nothing  but  life.  As  before,  in  '  The  Story 
of  a  Country  Town,'  the  strength  and  insight  with  which  he  can  put  a 
neighborhood  before  the  reader  in  its  characteristic  colors  is  surprising ; 
indeed,  this  is,  so  far,  the  best  feature  of  Mr.  Howe's  work.  It  is,  too,  a 
region  of  our  country  new  to  fiction  that  he  has  brought  forward,  — the 
central  West;  and  one  that  is  surprisingly  unknown  to  the  reading 

Eublic,  considering  how  much  of  the  area,"  the  wealth,  and  the  popu- 
ition  of  the  country  is  distributed  through  these  central  States.'  — 
Overland  Monthly. 

.  .  .  "  The  gift  of  a  born  story-teller  this  new  Western  nov 
elist  has  in  as  high  degree  as  Wilkie  Collins.  You  mav  quarrel  with 
the  machinery  of  his  story,  or  with  his  careless  style,  out  you  must 
admit  the  power  which  carries  you  along,  and  forces  you  to  take  a  deep 
interest  in  a  life  which  your  common-sense  tells  you  is  as  unreal  as  the 
most  grotesque  incidents  in  Dickens.  This  it  is  which  makes  Mr.  Howe 
worthy  of  more  than  passing  mention,  for  it  presages  a  career  which 
may  cast  into  the  shade  all  the  popular  favorites  among  the  novelists  of 
the* day."  —  San  Francisco  Chronicle. 


TICKNOR  &  CO.,   BOSTON. 


THE  WOKKS   OF   E.   W.   HOWE. 

A  MOONLIGHT  BOY. 

WITH  PORTRAIT  OF  THE  AUTHOR.  $1.50. 

"  A  genuinely  good  novel."  —  JH.  Y.  Tribune. 

"  So  sunny,  so  genial%  so  mirth-provoking,  and  so  tender,  that  tha 
reader  who  is  not  quite  hardened  reads  with  mingled  tears  and  smiles. 
Clever,  pathetic,  unique,  touching."—  The  Critic. 

"  Delicate,  Lamb-like  humor ;  literary  style  &  model  of  purity  and 
grace." —  Boston  Globe. 

"  Sweetness  of  feeling  and  purity  of  sentiment." — N.Y.  Telegram. 

"It  wins  upon  the  reader  by  dint  of  its  unobtrusive  charm  and 
sincerity,  and  will  remain  in  his  memory  long  after  more  stimulating 
productions  have  been  forgotten,  and  he  will  recur  to  it  more  than 
once,  to  read  again  its  touching  and  mirthful  passages."  —  N.Y. 
World. 

"  A  piece  of  fiction,  in  which  the  realism  is  as  intense  as  that  of  De 
Foe,  in  '  Robinson  Crusoe.'  It  reminds  you  of  Dickens,  and  has 
touches  of  humor  and  joyousness  that  are  as  genuine  as  his.  The 
book  is  perhaps  the  freshest  and  most  genuinely  American  work  of 
fiction  since  Mr.  Howells'  '  A  Modern  Instance.'  "  — Boston  Herald. 

"  It  has  a  delightful  humor,  a  simple,  unpretentious  manner,  that 
leaves  a  lasting  impression  upon  the  reader.  The  prairie  life,  the 
strangely  assorted  and  mysterious  character  of  the  race  life  which  fills 
the  vast  valley  of  the  Missjssippi,  the  sudden  growth  of  cities,  the  settle 
ments  made  and  unmade,  —  these  are  ready  for  the  writer,  who,  like 
Mr.  Howe,  is  indigenous.  Mr.  Howe  is  the  strongest  man  in  fiction 
that  the  great  West  has  yet  produced.  Indeed,  one  of  the  strongest  of 
his  generation  anywhere,  and  much  may  be  confidently  looked  for  as 
the  results  ol  his  future  studies  of  the  social  conditions  of  the  middle 
West." —  Boston  Transcript. 

"  How  many  flavors  and  savors  ha.ve  we  in  this  new  story  of  Mr. 
Howe's  ?  There  is  '  Japhet  in  Search  of  a  Father '  and  '  David  Copper- 
field,'  and  yet  it  is  as  native  and  as  peculiar,  and  belonging  as  particu 
larly  to  Mr.  Howe  as  if  there  had  never  been  a  novelist  before  him. 
There  has  arisen  in  Mr.  Howe  a  new  man,  one  who  is  to  make  his 
mark  in  English  literature.  A  clearer,  simpler  way  of  writing  English 
can  hardly  be  imagined.  If  there  is  an  exquisite  tenderness  about  the 
author  of  '  The  Story  of  a  Country  Town,'  there  is  endless  humor  and 
just  that  kind  of  racy  humor  that  has  no  trick  or  juggle  about  it.  He 
writes  in  a  way  that  all  can  understand  him.  If  the  better  educated 
can  appreciate  a  style  which  has  such  Avonderful  attractiveness,  it  is  the 
humor  of  the  writer,  the  pathos  he  displays,  the  simple  character  of  his 
story,  which  will  enlist  the  sympathies  of  all  classes." — New  York 
Times. 

8old  everywhere.    Sent,  post-paid,  by 

TICKN'OR  &  CO.,  BOSTON. 


WORKS   OF 

EDWIN   LASSETTER   BYNNER. 


AN    UNCLOSETED    SKELETON. 

By  EDWTN  LASSETTER  BYNNER  and  LUCRETIA  P.  HALE.   I  vol. 

32010.     Uniform  with  "  Penelope's  Suitors."     50  cents. 
A  very  dainty  and  charming  little  story,  quaintly  and  appropriately  bound. 

AGNES    SURRIAGE. 
A    Romance    of    the    Massachusetts    Province,      i    vol.     I2mo. 

#1.50. 

The  charm  of  the  tale  lies  in  its  pathetic  central  conception,  in  the  brightness 
and  grace  of  the  general  handling,  and  in  the  singularly  faithful  and  realizable 
handling  of  the  social  atmosphere  of  the  old  Colonial  days. —  The  Academy 
(London). 

It  is  wonderfully  picturesque  in  its  scenes.  Its  historic  accuracy  makes  the 
book  almost  a  living  panorama  rising  from  the  past.  The  dramatic  power  of  this 
series  of  living  tableaux  is  remarkable,  and  the  story  is  one  that  will  take  rank 
among  the  few  great  works  of  creative  literature.  —  Boston  Traveller. 

DAMEN'S    GHOST. 

$1.00.     In  paper  covers,  50  cents. 

A  book  which  commands  remarkably  the  reader's  attention.  —  Boston  Globe. 

The  dramatic  interest  of  the  story  is  very  strong,  and  the  mystery  is  cleverly 
concealed  until  the  critical  moment  —  Boston  Gazette. 

PENELOPE'S    SUITORS. 

i  vol.     32mo.     Quaint  antique  binding,  and  tied  with  cords.     50 
cents. 

.  A  dainty  little  romance  of  the  days  of  Governor  Bellingham,  in  the  old  Massa 
chusetts  Province. 

Few  writers  of  the  day  have  so  well  caught  the  old-time  savor,  which  is  much 
enhanced  by  the  archaic  printing,  the  long  s's,  catch-words,  and  so  on.  Alto 
gether,  the  volume,  though  of  vest-pocket  size,  is  a  thoroughly  charming  bit  of 
Look-making.  —  N,  Y.  Commercial  A  dvertiser. 

A  dainty,  old-fashioned  little  volume,  —  a  most  delightful  story  of  Boston  in 
Colonial  days.  —  Chicago  Tribune. 

The  whole  affair  is  a  delicate  feu  d?esprit,  and  will  delight  gentlewomen  as 
well  as  the  man  of  taste.  —  The  Beacon  (Boston). 


%*  Sold  by  booksellers.      Sent,  post-paid,  on  receipt  of  price,  by  the 
publishers. 

TICKNOR  AND   COMPANY,  Boston. 


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